


Choking on Sapphires

by boogiewrites



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Angst, Antisemitism, Canon-Typical Violence, Dom/sub Undertones, Domestic Fluff, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Gangsters, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Partners to Lovers, Period-Typical Sexism, Revenge, Smut, fighting for each other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2019-04-22 11:48:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 77
Words: 382,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14308014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boogiewrites/pseuds/boogiewrites
Summary: Genevieve Durand is a force to be reckoned with. An intelligent, fiercely independent, dual-natured and brutal businesswoman who finds herself in the company of gangsters and disrespectful men almost every day. When she moves to London for a new chapter in her empire, she finds herself very interested in the friends the father of her godson has found himself in business with. But how will she handle Alfie Solomons entering her life and turning it upside down in the most unexpected of ways?An epic (long) slow burn romance about the years after WWI in London with two gangsters trying to control their power and navigate love, family and pride along the way. Where will they find themselves holding their loyalty? And will their loyalty to each other falter as it’s tested time and time again.Each Chapter of this fic will have a song to work in unison with the story. The titles of the songs will be the titles of the chapters.





	1. Thieves & Kings

Song: Thieves & Kings by The Peach Kings - All dialogue in italics is spoken in French.

 

##  _**Preface** _

You knew Tommy Shelby through his wife Grace. You had gone to the same girl’s school together growing up. Your noble British father knew hers and thus you remained friends after school. You’d both grown up using your sweet exteriors to conceal your inner devious selves who were superb at playing young and dumb to get out of trouble. 

Only as companions during school, your summers were spent with your mothers family in France. This was where you grew up amongst the outskirts of the Milieau and the consequences of their crimes. You were still raised and groomed to be a hopefully rich and powerful man’s wife, with your etiquette dinners and polite conversation skills. But you preferred to spend your free time in the stables, or fencing with your brothers. Late at night when you preferred to sneak around your families estate, you would find yourself in the kitchen with your cousins and the rest of the workers in your home. They were far more interesting and alive than any other group of people you’d ever met, and they had the best, although most times, inappropriate stories. 

After Grace’s sudden death, at the party you were all attending, you stayed to help with arrangements and however you could. You had stayed in the house for a short time after, until others received word of her death. You spent time with the Shelby ladies who always felt distant but were kind to you, nonetheless. The brother’s somber mood made for poor conversation between them and everyone who spoke to them so you didn’t take it personally. 

It wasn’t until you were woken up by an intruder one night that you earned the Shelby’s trust. You hear breaking glass, voices, thuds. You grab a gun you kept in your mattress and sneak out of your room. You’d done plenty of small crimes over the years, you loved the thrill. But you’d never had to kill someone before. You run to Charlie’s room as you’ve been looking after him and have grown so fond of the child. You knew Thomas wouldn’t survive it if he lost him too. You knew losing Grace, Tommy and Charlie would break you. 

You’re found by an askew crib, your hands a bloody mess, leaning against the wall by the window breathing heavily. One body shot in the head on the floor, the other, head wedged between the bloody, partially open window frame.   
You remember coming to, out of your blackout and seeing John and Arthur, guns up, stalking into the room, eyes wide, hair a mess from sleep. They slowly run their eyes over the scene, Arthur reaching out to shush the crying baby. You rest your hands on the crib, nodding down to Charlie. John leans in towards you slowly.

“They were after Charlie.” you huff out. Your let out a ragged breath, you groan and pick up your gun. You noisily gulp and clear your throat, standing up straight, composing yourself. You weren’t going to let this beat you. You couldn’t because then they won, and that wasn’t an option you were interested in exploring. They took Grace, tried to take her child and tried to kill you. You’d moved onto a new stage of grief, vengeance. You straighten your robe, it’s already splattered with blood anyway. Your breathing slows and you say quietly, “Fucking. Italians.” you spit out. John nods, grabbing you by the shoulder, giving it a small shake to make sure you’re not hurt. 

“Fucking Italians.” Arthur murmurs, handing the baby to a maid.

“Draw me a very, very hot bath please, would you Mary?” you give her a small nod and sad smile. John let’s out a small amused noise at your casual response.  
Arthur is pacing, fuming, his hands in his hair. John diverts his attention to him, you lean on the rail of the crib with most of your weight, now exhausted. They talk but you don’t listen, your ears are ringing a bit now. You feel an arm around your shoulders.

“You did good, sweetheart.” Arthur says gruffly, not sure how to comfort you. You nod and thank him, patting his hand with yours. He puts a man outside your door every night until you leave. You feel much more accepted by the Shelby’s by the morning you leave. Even earning a private thank you from Tommy personally.   


##  **_Chapter 1_ **

  
You find yourself making a handful of trips back from your home near Paris as uses for your particular sets of skills are to be had with the Peaky Blinders. You’d spoken on all holidays over the telephone and visited on a few. You speak to Polly most frequently, mostly of Charlie as you sent all the children gifts often when you traveled. 

  
For the first time, you initiate the call to Tommy in the wake of your fast decision to move to London. You make your way out to his country home. You explain to Tommy of your intentions of starting new for yourself. You have a different last name to hide your nobility connections and forged paperwork and records to weave together a fake past. You tell him about your legal business plans, your honey, and your berries. You whisper to him about your illegal business, mostly art theft, some jewels and a touch of persuading others to do your bidding because of your connections and violence. The latter he was a skill he was well acquainted with. He welcomes you with a closed mouth smile.

They help you acquaint yourself better to the people of London. You’d been keeping yourself busy with your business for so long since moving a night out, even as a possible but unlikely accomplish was welcome. Going out with the brothers meant no men would mess with you without your distinct permission and that was a welcome relief. Well, no men except the brothers and you could handle them, even drunk, you had before.

The room spins just slightly as you do with John Shelby on the dance floor. You found him the most fun to dance with even if you did feel like you were teasing the boy far too often when you did. But he was just a wild as you for the urge to indulge in the taboo others turned their nose up at. The Shelby’s were your type of family, reminding you of your mothers family you missed in France. They were dark cousin souls to your own twisted one and you’d kill for them at this point. Well, actually you had on many occasions now.  
The golden walls of the large ballroom blur with the sparkle and dazzle of the clothes of the other women dancing quickly around you. Smiles were on everyone’s faces, including yours. You only drink wine as the boys hit back their whiskey. You’ve managed to avoid trouble so far, having danced with John and now retired to what was formerly Arthurs seat, next to Tommy. He’s leaned away from you, speaking quietly to another man. His body language doesn’t read as tense so you relax and take a moment to scan the room, sipping from your glass of red wine. Your friend and business assistant Claire, who you had brought with you tonight despite her clear distaste of spending a night with the Shelby’s, sits in a pulled up chair behind you, her body turned towards yours, that was facing out from the long table.

“Your rest isn’t an indication of it nearing the time for us to leave, is it?” she whispers flatly.

“No. I’ll know when to leave, I am not getting involved in a fight tonight, Claire, it is not my intention.” you hiss at her in a hushed tone.

“For once.” she scoffs, turning away from you.

You roll your eyes and take out your long cigarette holder, clasping the case shut. Before you can light it yourself, Tommy has a match ready, using it to light his own after. You give him a polite nod.

“Enjoying yourself Gen?” he asks, you see the faint smile in his eyes as he takes a drag from his cigarette.

“Yes. I did terribly need to get out. I’ve been far too uptight as of late.” you almost groan, leaning back in your seat.

“I couldn’t help but notice you’ve stayed with your wine all night,” he says quietly, leaning his head towards you to speak more privately. “No whiskey, no snow.” he says slowly, insinuating something. You swat his chest lightly with your hand with a scoff.

“Jesus, Thomas, no. Ridiculous!” you laugh, turning your head from him. “I don’t drink heavily anymore when business may be afoot and I haven’t touched snow since Paris. ” you give him a stern nod. “No other reasons,” you say low, looking up over your brow at him.  He nods and his mouth purses slightly, convinced by your answer. “Not that it would be any of your business.” you say snarkily, crossing your legs.

“No, not my business. Just a natural curiosity to ask that leads me to trouble.” he subtly smirks looking down at your amused but scolding face. You shrug your shoulders and pat his knee, agreeing with his conclusion. “Although the thought of the poor boy unlucky enough to knock you up.” he shakes his head and tsks. You can’t help but chuckle at the thought as well.

“Poor boy indeed.” you nod in agreement, your face returning to its blank expression with inquisitive eyes.

“Coming in on the left. I don’t believe you’ve met him before, have you?” You subtly turn your brown eyes across the floor of moving bodies, to the doorway of the large room. A broad-shouldered man with a tall hat stands in the middle of the archway, his brow furrowed, mouth pressed tightly under his beard. You see the attractive glint of rings across his fingers. His hands rested atop of his cane, centered in between his legs. “Alfie Solomons,” Tommy informs, leaning back into his seat. “You’ve heard plenty of stories about him, I’m sure of it.” he takes another drag of his cigarette.

“I certainly have.” you say slowly, correcting your posture. Your eyes narrow as you watch him. His voice is loud, you can almost make out his words across the room as he grabs a man’s shoulder in greeting. You’ve heard a few stories about Alfie Solomons from the boys. Although on good terms now, and as much of friends as you could be in their line of work, you knew he and Tommy had a history together. You’d never been involved in these particular business matters but you were certainly very interested in meeting this man.

“Alfie Solomons.” Claire whispers to you when she turns and see’s you starring across the room intently, having not heard Tommy’s words to you in the noise of the room. “Leader of the Jewish Gang in Camden Town, known for his temper and his talking,” she adds. You nod and give her a sound of acknowledgment. “And friends with your Shelby’s, so play nice,” she adds with more lightness to her voice. You give a subtle smile. “Because he’s coming over.” she adds, leaning back away from you. You turn back in his direction, his swaying gate capturing your attention. You sit demurely with your hands in your lap as he greets Tommy loudly and forcefully. He tips his hat to Arthur and John as bumble back to the table, mumbling amongst themselves.

“Do I know this one, Tommy, eh? You with him?” he asks, motioning his cane to you. You look up to meet his gaze, your face neutral but confident.

“No, she is not. This one is no man’s.” he says, you can feel the underlying jab at you in his voice. He leaves your introduction up to you, it’s like he knows you.

“No man’s like them?” he asks, head and hand motioning to two women making out on the bench against the wall behind you. He sits down hard in the chair across from you.

The girls notice you turn your full body in your chair to them, just feet away, they dart their eyes around nervously, you give them a warm smile. “Not quite like them, no.” you say with a small sly smile, sipping your wine as your elbow rests on the table in front of you. Tommy’s shoulder shakes just once with a chuckle at your response.

“How about now?” Alfie’s eyebrows raise and he motions again as you hear the deep grunt of Arthur being pulled back towards the two girls. They’re already kissing him and his arms around them both as you turn. You grin and shake your head, turning back to your previous position.

You give him a short but genuine laugh as you look down at the table to show consideration playing across your face. “More like them now, yes.” you give a small nod and smile as his lips pull back to give you a grin.

“Well then.” he taps his can on the floor. “That’s cleared up now, yeah?” he gives his head a quick nod. “Besides that very interesting bit of information, I don’t know much about you miss.” he leans forward on his cane slightly.  "And I know everyone, so who does that make you?“ he implores, moving his elbows to the table. You mirror his posture and his eyes glance over you.

"If you know everyone, but not me, that would make me nobody would it not?” your face is neutral.

“What that clearly ain’t true, is it? Yer sittin’ right next to Tommy fuckin’ Shelby, that makes you someone, dunnit?” he says gruffly “They wouldn’t of let you in here if you were no one.” he says obviously.

“Genevieve Durand.” you hold out your hand to his already reaching one. “I’m the owner of Abeille Company just outside London.” you introduce yourself giving him a polite nod as he slowly brushes his lips across the back of your hand. You very subtly raise an eyebrow at his whiskers lingering on your skin.

“Owner, eh? Right.” he asks, his interest peaked, his amusement clear. “I’ve heard of yer company Mrs. Durand.”

“Miss Durand.” you immediately and clearly correct him. He’s surprised by your frankness to interrupt him.

“Good to know.” he says, his tongue clicking behind his teeth. “Alfie Solomons.” he introduces himself, “Aerated Bread Company.”

 _“Bread and rum, runs a bakery. Call the rum bread, just trust me_.” Claire whispers to you in French.

“My friend Claire has heard of your company, Mr. Solomons.”

“And I of yours.” he says with a shake of his head. “Would you like to try some of my bread, Miss Durand?” he asks, his charisma coming out a bit more, or at least that’s what you thought it was. He wasn’t the easiest to read, moving rapidly through facial expressions.

“Why not?” you say with a shrug, looking over to an amused and silent Tommy. He holds his arm up to make the order.

“A glass for each the ladies, yeah? Good lad.” he says not looking to the waiter.

“No thank you. I do not drink when I am working.” Claire corrects in English.

“Right then.” he nods, taking it for himself. “Bread, yeah?” he asks you, leaning forward, motioning his head and hand to the bottles that have been set on the table.

“White and brown bread.” you say with a subtle smile in your eyes. You enjoyed the energy he was putting off. You didn’t feel threatened by him, but you did certainly feel captivated.

“Smart girl.” he says as he pours the clear in your glass. It’s smoother and lighter than you expect. You use the opportunity to lick your lips while you consider your response. “Hows it please you miss? C'mon, let’s hear it.” he asks with no real concern behind it, motioning with his hand for you to respond. You glance over at Tommy again, giving a tiny shrug and mirroring Alfie’s hand motion.

You nod. “Reminds me of summer,” you answer almost wistfully. He turns his head at your unusual response. “It really isn’t bad at all, actually.” you give him a small flash of a smile. You motion with your hand, “And this one?” you inquire, picking up the brown.

“Yeah.” he nods. “Summer eh? Right.” he draws out the last word in a gritty voice, looking down his nose at you as you taste this one.  You set it back down and look at him indifferently.  "Hows it? You got any poetry about this one?“ he says leaning in closer, you feel like he’s testing your personal space.

"No,” you say, looking down your nose at the glass. “I ask your apologies Mr. Solomons but that one is fucking awful.” you give him a small sly smile and he laughs. His head going back, loud and booming, his hand gives a casual pat to your response on your hand while he laughs. He quickly retreats it. Tommy shakes his head, even letting out a small chuckle at your response.

“Lookit the mouth on this one.” he hums in amusement, his eyes narrowing at you again after he shoots a playful glance at Tommy. “You said you knew who I was. You’d think a slight thing such as yourself wouldn’t talk to a man like me like that.” he tests you, invading your personal space. Unbothered you give him a casual glance, looking over his rugged face as he huffs out his nostrils at you in a twitch.

“Manquer?” Claire asks.  You give her no response because you feel he means you no immediate harm.

“I believe you were the one that asked what I thought about them.” you respond, your chin lowering, looking up at him through your lashes to show your unphased nature of his intrusion.

“Ay I did.” he nods, waiting you out.

“You seem like the type of man who would appreciate the truth over a lie.” you say dignified.

“You been lying to other types of men then eh?” his lips read as friendly as his nose twitches.

“Just the ones that can’t handle the truth.” you say confidently. He gives a low hum, nodding his head and shaking his finger at you, like he was scolding you but he changes the conversation.

“That brown stuff is awful stuff anyway, innit?” he says, sliding the glass down the table without looking where it was going. “It’s not for a lady now is it?” he explains, his hands moving while he speaks, his rings glinting in the light of the room. A tall dark haired young man comes up to him to take his attention from you.

You turn to Claire, who is almost perched on the back of your chair. “ _I like this one_.” you whisper to her in French, your face close to hers.

 _“Really_?” she asks, already annoyed by this fondness.

“Oui.” you say with a mischievous smile she narrows her eyes at.

“ _and why_?” she says with her disapproval heavy in her voice.

“ _I think he may be useful_.” you give a small shrug with the shoulder she was closet to.

“ _Is that all_?” she asks sarcastically. She could tell you were enjoying the conversation because she’d seen a small flash of teeth in your smile.

“ _I like the power coming off of him. He’s a smooth talker despite the accent_ ,” you smirk at her, your faces close as he continues to speak away from you. “ _He’s into rum. Alcohol always moves. I have honey, he makes bread. Who knows what could happen_.” you say, hopeful at the chance of another business opportunity.

“ _And no other reasons_?” she mumbles, rolling her eyes subtly.

“ _Other reasons, oui. None of which you should concern yourself with_.” you dismiss her words with a wave of your hand.

“ _You think this one is handsome don’t you_?” her voice lilts. You stop and consider it.

“Oui.” you coo playfully, he turns back to you and you move your shoulder back towards the table.

He takes your hand unexpectedly. You give him a look that isn’t entirely welcome to the nerve of him to suddenly touch you. “I’m afraid there’s business to attend to, Miss Durand. Ya understand.” he nods, a slightly apologetic tone to his rough voice. “Another time, yeah?” his brow is furrowed and his mouth pulled tight as he raises and kisses your hand before gently laying it back on top of your forearm.

“Another time.” you give him a polite node and a sweet smile to remember you by.

“Tommy.” he huffs out low, giving him a tip of his hat as he walks away.

“Looks like that’s your cue to leave, sweetheart.” Tommy pats your back as he raises from his chair. You follow his lead, he helps you put on your coat, you gather your purse in your hands. “Unless you want to stay and get into some trouble.” he adds playfully, both joking and not.

“No, she does not.” Claire interjects, grabbing your forearm and dragging you away, towards the exit.

“Goodbye boys!” you shout to them, blowing kisses just as a gunshot rings out across the room. You post up against the surge of people stampeding out of the club. You hear a deep voice shout over the cleared room, you see Alfie, cane fisted in his hand, someone already at his feet. Your eyebrow raises with the side of your mouth involuntarily at the display. You’re knocked side to side as the rest of the people clear. You’re in the lobby with a few workers, they’re huddled behind statues and columns, but you’re in the middle of the grand entryway, unphased by the violence unfolding in front of your eyes. 

“Oh no you don’t!” you hear Claire groans loudly as she wraps her arms around your waist and moves your forcefully out of the building, you watch the leader of the Jewish Gangs snarl and strike as she spins you around and shoves you into your car. 

“It was just about to get good.” you pout, fixing your askew dress. Claire glares at you, telling your driver to head home.


	2. Conquest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song for the chapter: Conquest - The White Stripes

Ollie stands in the doorway of Alfie's office, he's grumbling to himself, flipping the pages of 3 open books on his desk, his small golden glasses on their chain around his neck are perched on the end of his nose as his lips pursed together tightly. His finger taps hard against the same space in one of the books.

"Ollie?" he asks lightly.

"Yes, Mr. Solomons?" he asks in his usual vaguely hesitant tone to the singular calling of his name from his employer.

"Do you remember a night a few months back with a Miss Genevieve Durand?" he asks, his tone even, his finger taps the book again. He removes his glasses and motions for the tall young man to come closer.

 

"The lady with Tommy Shelby?" he asks for clarification, his face wincing as he leans forward to see where Alfie's finger is tapping.

"That would be correct, Ollie." he says, his voice darkening slightly, not unnoticed by Ollie's trained ears. "If you recall her by name now, why would you not tell me we've been doing business with her." he looks over at Ollie, his eyes wider than they had been just seconds before. Alfie's face is drawn, his eye staring intently at the boy leaning over his desk with him.

"Since it was all business from upstairs..." Alfie's eyes narrow slightly at him. "I don't usually bother you with that business, sir. I didn't know it was important, my apologies." he ducks his head slightly, turning his eyes from his and back to the big, swooping, feminine signature on the bottom of the contract Alfie had been looking at. Alfie takes one of the books into his hands and holds it as if to recite from it.

"Now Ollie..." his voice not immediately threatening, but not welcoming either. He replaces the glasses on his nose while he speaks, leaning the book towards the other man. "You see these names on this page, yeah?" he waits for Ollie to nod in response. "So, right, you can see 'em so is there anything that stands out on this page, here?" his lips are tight, face agitated but patient.

"Her signature, Mr. Solomons?" he asks quietly, unsure.

"Smart boy, there, yeah." he wiggles his finger at him. "You know why it's different though, boy?" Ollie's brow furrows, he shakes his head subtly. "Well that's because it's the only woman's signature in here, right?" his head tilts as he drops the book back onto the desk with a thud. "All these owners names on here, all men." Alfie crosses his arms across his chest, standing up straight but still looking at the open book. "Now let me ask you Ollie." he turns his broad form towards the lanky young man. "Do you own a business?"

"No, sir." he answered confused.

"Right, and are you a woman, Ollie?" he asks, his nose wrinkling with his expression of annoyance.

"Uh-" Ollie stutters, "No. No sir." his brows are uneven as his confusion is now worn on his face.

"Now, as an oppressed people, even without the added oppression of being a woman, you can understand how hard it would be to achieve such a thing, yeah?" his shoulders shrug slightly. "Now imagine being a woman, and running your own business. Not your husbands business, not your brothers, your fathers, just you. Just her. All on her lonesome." he puts his hand on Ollie's shoulder as he nods in agreement.

"Now, don't you think that I would want to speak to the only woman business owner, a member of another oppressed group who has shown themselves to be so resilient? That I've ever been in business with for, how long now...?" his mouth frowns as he leans back over the desk, looking with his finger guiding the way to the dates in the columns of the books. "For almost two fucking months now?" his head turns to Ollie but his hands remain on the desk.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Solomons for not realizing it's importance." he averts his eyes and stands back up straight.

"Right." he sucks his teeth at him, staring him down very predatorily, hoping he doesn't have to shout what he wants him to do at him.

"I'll set up an appointment with her as soon as possible." he nods and steps backward to leave the room, turning and crossing the threshold with a sense of relief.

"Be sure to be apologetic! What for how long it's taken you to invite her." Alfie adds, shutting the book and holding up the contract with your sweeping signature.

"Yes, sir." he calls back, heading towards where he kept Mr. Solomons schedule book.

"Genevieve Durand. Right." he says slowly and quietly, holding the edge of his glasses as he looks over the previously hidden piece of paper with the information from the research he'd had some of his men do on you.  
\-------------------  
Your heels clack against the wood of the stairs as you walk underground into the sepia-toned expanse of Alfie Solomons Bakery. Your cool toned greys and blues you wore in your coat, skirt, blouse, and hat didn't melt with the warm surroundings you found yourself drawn into. Ollie, who you recall being with Mr. Solomons the night you'd met him, very gingerly checks you for weapons, being entirely too apologetic and dainty about it as he missed everything you'd been carrying. One of the few perks being a woman had in these business instances had to be how very few people suspected you to be carrying weapons.  
You clasped your gloved hands together in front of you as you stride behind Ollie down a dusty concrete floor, surrounded by tall stacks of barrels that smelled loudly of Rum. The sounds of muffled men's voices and wooden bangs and screeches littered the air. As you start to undo the buttons of your long coat you hear his voice loud and booming, same as it was the last time you heard it, echoing over the open warehouses blank brick walls as you moved closer to him.  
He shoos away the man with the clipboard speaking to him, dismissing him entirely before turning his full body and attention to you. "MISS DURAND!" he shouts, his arms rising above his head and clasping together in front of him with a loud clap. He steps under an overhanging lamp, illuminating him in an intimidating silhouette. Ollie steps to the side as you find yourself practically nose to chest with him before he stops his swaying gate.

"Mr. Solomons." you say in a calm, clear tone, a small smile and nod accompany your gaze up at him. He leans in to press his cheek to yours, your right then your left. He's warm and smells like rum with the faint lingering of cigars.

"Come in, come in," he says, gesturing with his hands to the half glass door of his office. You walk into the large space, your eyes scanning the dimly lit furniture. His hand hovers over your back but does not touch as he moves in behind you. "Sit, please." he moves the chair back from his desk for you. You're pleased with his manners thus far. Pulling your gloves off, your eyes watch him move around his desk to his chair seated directly across from yours.

"Thank you for meeting with me Miss Durand, I heard you've been expanding on a new Apiary, I know that must take up a lot of your time right now." You unpin your hat as he speaks, letting the freed pieces of your curled hair fall around your face, you check to make sure the rest of your updo was holding up as nicely. You don't smile with your lips but your eyes give away the impression he's already made by showing he knows what you do and also knowing about your businesses recent developments.

"Well, with Spring coming in soon I've been more concerned with avoiding chilled broods and readying the soil for my plants, but yes, I've got my people working on another bee yard." you take off your jacket as you speak, laying it over the arm of the chair next to you. "Your reputation precedes you, Mr. Solomons, I see you've done your research on me." you now give him a slight smile as you lean back into your chair, crossing your legs at the knee.

"Miss Durand, may I call you Genevieve?" he asks with an open hand and a furrowed brow.

"May I call you Alfie?" you retort, your head tilting slightly. A small flash of something runs across only his eyes.

"Yes. Yes you may." he nods, his lips puckering slightly with words.

"Then you may call me Genevieve." you say with a shrug of your shoulder.

"Right then, Genevieve. I make it a point to know who I go into business with, yeah?"

"A good practice. I do the same." your face is neutral, your eyes slowly glide over the contents of the room within your view.

"Oh you do, do you?" he asks low, slightly scolding but still playful. "What'd you get on me then?" he says with a grin.

"I did hear you had some trouble with your bookies last Derby." you hold back a smirk as his hands come together in front of him, his weight on his elbows.

"That so?" his eyes narrow and his mouth closes in a straight line. You could swear the hint of being impressed sat in his glare. "What does a beekeeper know about the races?" he says with a small huff of a laugh.

"You calling me a beekeeper is like me calling you a baker. It's true, but it's not the whole truth now, is it?" you let the smirk find your lips as you lean forward, your weight now on one elbow.

"Is it not?" he asks, his head shaking with his words, his tone stubborn. You narrow your eyes slightly at him, you put your tongue to the back of your teeth as you open your mouth to show your impatience.

"Did you invite me here to talk business, Mr. Solomons?" you say with an audible sigh to your voice.

"I may have had many motives in inviting you here today. That would be among them, yeah." he nods.

"Then talk business," you state, leaning forward just slightly. Your eyelashes fluttering with emphasis to your words as your mouth pursed slightly. He sits back in his chair, his hands folded across his stomach.

His face isn't threatening exactly but it also isn't as friendly as it had been.

"What business ya talkin'?" he says, his brow lowering and his chin moving to his chest.

"A new opportunity to build our working relationship. One that doesn't involve Abeille Company."

"This isn't the type of business I'd be writing down in that book with your name in it now, is it?" he says flatly, leaning back onto the desk with his elbows.

"I wouldn't suggest that approach, no." you lift the corner of your mouth slightly as you tilt your head to the side.

"Right." he says, sucking his teeth, his eyes darting around the room before returning to you. You're as still as you were before his eyes had left you. "What is it you think I can do for you?" his voice is softer now, his face still hard.

"I need two men to help me in 3 weeks time. I need them to have the ability to take direction, be quiet and possibly use guns, with accuracy, with the intent to kill. I would greatly prefer brains over brawn in these men as well. " you state confidently. "Those that would normally help me with this aren't available to work within my time frame and I had hoped that you would be able to work within them, unlike they were." you state the last part with less harshness, as this information was purely to build trust with him as it wasn't something that was absolutely essential to be shared. Even if it was an attempt to appeal to his ego.

"Eh. You don't need me for something like this, now, yeah? I'm sure your friend Tommy can fix this for you. Go ask him." he taps the desktop with his finger to emphasize his words.

"I didn't ask him for help though did I?" you state flatly. "I asked you." you shift your weight slightly in your seat. "I may be godmother to the man's son but that doesn't mean I am in any way obliged to work with or for him. " you sit up straight.

"No. No, you are not, are you? Right. You're very much out there working for yourself, aren't you?" he nods thoughtfully. You wait him out, your face neutral. "I admire that there. I do." he nods more enthusiastically. "It's part of what made me invite you today, truth be told. I've never worked with a woman who came by her own business on her own. Not her husbands, fathers, or her brothers." he pauses, his tongue peaks out of his mouth to wet his tongue for split second. "But hers." he looks at you as if he's pondering something about your character. "And now," he lets out a quick laugh. "Now you come here and I find out this pretty face is into the same bad, bad things I am. That's interesting now, innit?"

"Not the way you saw your afternoon going?" you ask, your tone was playful but your face remained stoic.

"No it's bloody not." he grins, shaking his head. You sit in the silence for a few moments."Alright now, Genevieve. I can get you these men you want. But I will need to know what they're for." he says slowly, his hand out with his palm up to show his point.

"That's fair for a first transaction." you nod. You lean your forearms onto his desk to get closer to him, your butt still in your seat. "Like you, I have other more, questionable means of income. My personal favorite and the one in question, is theft. In this instance, precisely jewels." you speak softly but clearly, his eyes are darting over your face as you speak to him.

"And in other instances?" he grins, his fingertips tapping together.

"Because you are in fact, doing me a favor with your help, I'll confide in you that art theft was my first love."

"Oh you're far gone, aren't ya?" he laughs and your face shifts to amused. "Speaking of the work like it's a woman. Or-in your case a man." his nose scrunches and he speaks with his hands as he stumbles over his words.

"You could just say lover." you interject smugly.

"Well, LOVER, alright, yeah? Speaking of the work like a lover. You're in deeper than I thought, Genevieve." he tsks you and you barely hold back an eye roll.

"I am comfortably in deep but that's none of your concern, Alfie." you give him a warm smile with the mention of his name moving smoothly out from between your lips.

"If we're in business, I believe it is now my concern." his fingers link together under his chin, as the low almost growl to his voice fades from his slow-paced words. His eyes bore into you.

"Perhaps time will reveal my depth to you if this negotiation goes well." you look down and you straighten your back, drumming your fingers on your forearm.

"Ah, we negotiating now, are we?" his tone shows his immediate interested response to the word.

"The cut for the help of your men." you state clearly, sticking to business. Your face is neutral, your eyes more serious.

"Right so, two men, one night?" he asks, putting on his glasses and reaching for a pen.

"One night." you nod, watching his handwriting appear across the sepia-toned paper, matching in tone to the rest of his bakery. "I will supply the guns, brief them beforehand and take them to and from the site. They'll be returned to the original place of pick up after it's complete." your head moves to and fro subtly as you list out your plans. "I will handle the rest and have your cut, in cash within 3 days time." He makes a low grunt of noise, nodding, his bottom lip tucked up under his mustache in thought.

"And what's this percentage now?" he asks, looking up from the paper into your eyes. You look up and away for a moment, playing that you were considering the amount even though it had all been decided in your head long before you came here, you were prepared to be generous seeing as you needed to build trust in this relationship. You look back with certainty into his gaze. "I think 75." his looks to the paper and starts moving the pen. You knew he was pushy, but you found it endearing, being drawn to his certainty.

"75?" you scoff slowly. "I know you want to show your dominance Mr. Solomons but I assure you it is not needed." he looks up, his eyes narrowed at you, you still hold your ground against his flaring nostrils.

"It's you, my services, man 1 and man 2, yeah?" he nods. "That makes you one part of four."

"That is an offensive underselling of the value of my time, skills and labor Mr. Solomons. I had hoped for better from a man like you. Inviting me here was a promising gesture but if you insist on wasting my time you should be sure I can and will withdraw the offer entirely and do the job by myself out of spite." Your teeth almost bite at the last word, your face pushing back assertively against his huffing one.  
He chin pushes into his chest again, eye not leaving yours. He swallows noticeably and smacks his lips, his eyes still baring down on you from under his furrowed brow. "Right." is all he says, slowly.

"Since this is our first venture together and I can empathize with your need for proper compensation for taking a calculated chance on working with someone new," you pause, your head tilting to the side. "40%." you state, your finger lightly tapping the wooden desk in front of you.

"Forty?" he considers, the word full of gravel as it crawled out of his throat.

"For what precious things I'll be getting my hands on 40 is generous." your tone is solid.

"Since you are coming to me with such a generous attitude," he pauses, rubbing his chin as he speaks. "In the name of the," he waves his hand in a lazy circle as he considers his words, "generosity and all that," he pauses, his lips disappearing under his mustache again his brow furrowing in unison. "I can agree to 40." his pen starts moving again.

"A 40% cut for the two men. Who better not be duds, Alfie." a small grin on your lips,

"No, no, not duds for you now. You're my business partner, yeah? We can't go fuckin' each other over now can we?" he grins and you return the same expression while forgetting yourself for a moment.

"No we cannot." you pull back the grin as quickly as it appeared, you stand and he follows your lead. "Well negotiated, Mr. Solomons." you raise your hand and spit in it, holding it out to him. The look on his face makes you feel a lot of things.

"Lookit you." he lets out a low chuckle. He spits in his hand and shakes yours. You roll your eyes at his words, holding his hand firmly. "Well negotiated, Miss Durand."  
You pull your hands apart and you bend to grab your coat, pulling out a medium sized glass bottle out of the deep side pocket. You set it on his desk. The warm colored liquid and spices swirling underneath the red ribbon you'd tied around the neck of the bottle. "In case this did go well, I brought you this." you nod and hold your hand out to the bottle, as he reaches for it. "I used your rum in this batch of apple cider." you hold your hands together in front of you after you slip your coat back on.

"You coming in on my bread game as well, yeah?" he says playfully, holding the bottle up the light.

"Absolutely not." you shake your head. "I have apples in my personal garden, which is where that lovely boy came from." you motion to the bottle with a nod of your head. "I had the idea to use your rum in this batch. Along with my honey and my garden's spices." he looks over at you, the bottle still held up in the air. "A gesture to both of us working together for a common goal and coming together beautifully." you give him a kind smile. "If I do say so myself." you give a slight shrug and take your gloves from your other pocket.

"Well that is yet to be determined, innit?" his voice softer than the words he says.

"I was referring to the cider, Alfie but if you must show your uncertainty, I suppose that it is still founded within reason." you give a small huff of a laugh as you button your coat. "For the time being." your face falls back into your fox-like focused expression.

"Keep giving me reasons to be more certain and I'm sure we'll work as well together as this cider, Genevieve." You give him a smirk as you press down the sides of your coat.

"I will continue to do so." you give a slight bow with your head and shoulders. "I'm afraid those Apiary's do need my attention today, Alfie." he follows behind you as you step away from the front of his desk towards the door. "So I'll take my leave and within three days, 3 weeks from now, I'll be in to see you again."

"Well you know where to find me now, don't you Miss Durand?" he says, opening the door for you. Your name back to being business in his mouth as the barrier between the private sanctuary of his office and the world was broken.

"I always knew where to find you, Mr. Solomons." you say softly, looking up at him through your lashes as your push your hat pin into your hair. "I just had to wait for you to invite me, didn't I?" you give him a sly smile and nod. "I hope our next meeting will be as fruitful as this one." he kisses the back of your hand, his eyes not leaving yours. "Good day, Mr. Solomons." you show your teeth just slightly in a smile.

"See you soon, Genevieve." he almost sighs as you turn away from him, your heels clicking on the hard stone floor. Ollie meets you as you head back towards the light of the street.


	3. Nail In My Coffin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song for this Chapter is Nail In My Coffin by The Kills.

"I won't be long, Tommy, calm down." Alfie groans as he sits next to the pale, dark clothed man with the agitated face next to him. 

"What is it, Alfie? I'm very busy today." Tommy puts his pocket watch back into his coat. Alfie goes right into his line of questioning.

"Genevieve and I have gone into business together, yeah?" Tommy's eyes slide over to the other man, looking him over as this is new information for him. "As it were, it would seem I do not know as much about Miss Durand as I would prefer to. I know you two are close in your own way." he says, his voice gravelly and slow. 

"I don't know what business you're doing Alfie, but Gen is a professional when it comes to her money so I have no doubt your venture will be successful. Is that all?" Alfie's face twitches, he looks out and away from Tommy, his mouth open as he considers the statement and noisily exhales.

"What the little minx's deal? Yeah?" his clasped hands around the end of his cane, settled between his outward facing knees. It rises and falls with a snap as he punctuates the emotion behind his question. It almost draws a smile on Tommy's face. "She looks like an angel and talks like the devil, right?" he shakes his head, his brow up and his lips pursed. "I've not known many women like this one before. Let alone, going into possibly," he drags the last word out with a hint of hesitation." questionable activities of an illegal nature with them." he hums at the end of that statement, one hand raised and moving as he spoke.

"I would be willing to put money down that you've never known a woman like her before, Alfie." Tommy looks away from Alfie's face that was screwing up at his words.

"Like that. What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" he huffs out of his nostrils. 

"If you're wondering if you can trust her..." Tommy returns to the other man's gaze and speaks more intently and quietly. "She's my boy's godmother if that answers your question."

"How'd she pull that? Gaining a Shelby's trust? Something elusive to so many such as myself from time to time."

"Only on by own fault, Alfie." Tommy shakes his head subtly, his eyebrows raised just slightly.

"That's true." his lips pucker out and he nods.

"She killed two Italians that were sent after Charlie shortly after Grace passed." Tommys neck tightens at the last words. 

"She fuckin' what?" he says in disbelief, leaning forward to make Tommy look at him to see if he was lying. 

"You heard me." Tommy says, his hands moving from his lap slightly to how his exasperation.

"That little, doe-eyed creature killed two men? Two fully grown, adult men, now? No short or little ones?" his words are more rushed in his surprise. 

"Shot one in the head and smashed another's head in with the window frame until he was dead." Tommy states flatly, his lips pressed together as his eyes narrow at Alfie and his insistent nature on this information.

Alfie's chin pushes back into his chest. He sputters, his lips twitching quickly with his facial hair. He looks away and holds his arms up to no one in particular. "Well fuck me." he declares softly as his arms go back down to this cane. His back resting against the bench once again. "So she's not only smart as a fuckin' whip," his head shakes with empahsis and he pauses. 

"She's lethal." Tommy nods. "I trust her but if you want to keep your tongue so you can continue to spin your pretty words I wouldn't cross her." he says seriously.

"So she's working with theft and murder, right. Busy girl." he grunts.

"Among other things." his voice infers enough to other sets of skills and Alfie's mind is reaching to consider all of them.

"Fuckin'-" he lets out a frustrated sound. "Among other things?" his voice is much more high pitched. "Fuckin' hell Tommy," he says with a scold to his voice for no reason in particular. "I ain't gonna regret lettin' this little fuckin' honey bee into my business, am I?" he says quietly, his bottom lip disappearing into his mustache as he contemplates how he feels about his decisions thus far. 

"That would be entirely up to you, wouldn't it, Alfie?" Tommy replies with a corner of his mouth drawn back, his tone completely serious.  
\------------------------------------------  
The job goes so well you find yourself suspicious afterward at the ease of it. The men he sent he must've put the fear into because they barely even spoke and did exactly as instructed. It had only been two days since the job but you find yourself with the money and in Camden after being driven around for meetings all day. 

You arrive unannounced, planning to drop the money and leave. You go to his bakery first, seeing if you sight any familiar faces to inquire as to where he is. You didn't think it wise to prance yourself down into the warehouse without warning. You see the same smiling girl you always do when you come in and you ask her where you could find Mr. Solomons, that you didn't have an appointment but did have business to discuss. She disappears after taking your name and Ollie appears behind her when she returns. You thank her and move in the direction Ollie motions to with his hand.

"He's is in a right mood today, Miss Durand. I know he'll want to be seeing you but," he shrugs and looks in the direction of the quickly growing louder shouting you hear at the end of the hallway. "He's having himself a moment with the bakers," he says with a frown, his face soft. "One of the poor new lads mistook the salt for the sugar," he says shaking his head with a sigh as he moves towards an open door near him in the hall. "He won't shout at you, now, so you can go in and save those boys a lashing if you'd like or you can wait if that's more your style." You give him a small smile and nod.

"Thank you Ollie." and with your polite response, he disappears behind the door. You stand up tall to look through the circular window in the swinging door that leads to the room full of ovens and pans and currently, also full of men of various ages looking like they were about to piss themselves. Alfie is shouting at them. His cane hitting the hard floor to punctuate his words. He raises it to poke chests and hit countertops. You find yourself chewing the inside of your cheek at the display of authority. Not wanting to undermine him, you choose to wait. Hearing every curse-laden rant he went on, smirking to yourself as your arms cross under your chest and you lean against the hallway wall. He slams the door, huffing mad. He doesn't notice you so you speak.   
"Mr. Solomons?" you call out to him, uncrossing your arms. He freezes for just a second.

"What do ya fuckin' want now?" he spits before he's fully turned around. His arms go limp from their tense position and fall to his sides as your eyes meet. You keep the smirk on your face at his words, tilting your head slightly. "Oh c'mon now." he shakes his head and shuffles towards you, taking both your hands into his. "I didn't know you were here, Miss Durand." he sighs and shakes your gathered hands in his. "I didn't mean that for you, I am sorry, yeah?" You decide from the dejected look on his face that he is regretful so you give him a warm smile. 

"I heard what you said to those poor boys in there, I think in comparison I got away with the better deal of the two." you take one of your hands from his, to pat atop his own.

"You heard all that shoutin' too?" his face winces slightly. 

"Them boys are making my blood boil today. Fuckin' rocks in their heads." he shakes his head again, looking up at the ceiling. 

"I empathize, Mr. Solomons. A few curses and shouted heated words aren't anything to scare me." you pat his hand again before withdrawing them both to clasp in front of you. "I'm sure I've said worse about less myself." you look off the side and retreat your warm smile, back to your usual neutral but serious expression.

"Either way, I don't want you thinkin' I'd address you in such a way under normal circumstances." he rubs the back of his neck and his arm lands at his side with a thud.   
"I didn't." you shake your head. "If I had I wouldn't be here now, would I?" you lean forward just slightly, compelled to ease his doubt.

"No I don't believe you would." he moves to the same door Ollie exited through earlier. "I was just about to have some tea, would you like to join me? We can talk about what's brought you to me today." 

"Tea?" your surprise comes out in your voice to his invitation to spend his free time with you."That sounds lovely." you accept with a nod, following him down the stairs, through hallways to find yourself back in the warehouse and sitting at the table in the back of his office with the intoxicating smells of bread and tea.

You sit down after taking off your coat, you'd forgone a hat and gloves for the change to warmer weather. The smell of the food hits your empty stomach and your hand goes to it. He sits at the table after you, hitting his seat with a small groan. His thick fingers look strange around the small china teapot. You try to switch from business to pleasure, not wanting to let a more personal and less professional chance for building trust to pass you by unseized.

"I have been driving and in meetings all day today," you say, you let your agitation from hunger show slightly. "I haven't eaten a thing since breakfast this morning." you move your head slightly as you speak, his eyes stay focused on pouring you both tea. "So thank you for inviting me to join you." you say, not sure if felt too heavy-handed after it came out of your mouth. 

"Thank you for so graciously accepting," he states with sincerity, sliding a blue and white cup towards you. You take two sugars and take the moments of gently stirring the liquid to take in the room from this new angle. Your eyes move across the numerous large leather books on the shelves.

"I had intended on only dropping off your money and leaving." you take a sip, your elbows resting on the top of the table. "I know I came unannounced, so I didn't want to take up much of your time."

"Why not?" he asks, you're surprised by the response. Your eyelashes flutter slightly to hold your face still as you consider how his posture mirrors your own.

"I know I'm very busy and I assumed the same of you." you say softly, trying to read if he was testing you or not. He usually was in some way. The way his brows sit in an almost relaxed expression make your muscles untense slightly, hoping he was just politely having tea with an acquaintance. 

"That's very considerate of you, innit?" he nods, sitting the seemingly miniature against his hand, cup on the table. "And a day early, no less." he says, his inflection impressed. 

"If there's one thing I don't fuck around on it's money." you let out a small chuckle. "I take my deadlines seriously." you give him a small smile, reaching into the pocket of your coat with the large rolls of bills. You sit it within his reach, out to the side of you both to avoid the food set up. "That would be for you, Mr. Solomons." you grin from behind your cup as he takes it and looks at it closely, his brows up, he brings his glasses up and onto his nose. "It's all there, the amount relayed to you earlier. Count it if you wish." you motion with your hand to show it would not offend you in the slightest. 

"No, that's all right, mate." he says gruffly, putting it into his pocket. You're very surprised by this but now he's leaning forward, his chin on his clasped hands, his eyes staring into you. You lower your cup and post up to meet him. 

"I appreciate your trust. I hope you also found that I compensated your men on a job, very well done, I might add." you move your chin as you speak to show your enthusiasm fr their performance. 

"Yeah, they told me." he says slowly, his eyes narrowing just slightly. 

"It went so well in fact that I started to think you'd somehow set me up and I'd find all my money and jewels to be missing if I so much as blinked." you give him a smirk and he returns it.

"No, no fucking around when it comes to you Miss Durand." you think you might've heard a hint of newly earned respect in his tone for you. "I hope my men did behave themselves." he moves his arms and sits back to sip his tea again as you pick which bread you're going to attempt to eat politely and not shove directly into your face like you truly wanted to do. 

"They were gentlemen, yes." you grin as you find a pastry and squeeze it slightly with your fingers before you eat it. "Whatever you said or did to them before they came to me, you should continue to do because they shut up and did what I said." you shrug your shoulders with a half smile. "Two traits I don't find often enough in men." you give him a bigger grin, showing your teeth with a soft laugh before you take a large bite of the pastry. 

He lets out a low chuckle at your warmer and sociable nature compared to your last interaction. "I find that to be true as well." he says with a lightness to his tone. You look at him with a cocked head and closed mouth smile, chewing your food, after he grins and looks away from you, you roll your eyes and shake your head. "But I am very happy to hear they met your, "he groans the last word," understandably high standards." he nods, his lips pursed together as he follows your lead and starts picking apart a roll. 

"If I don't demand the best from people I'm settling for less than I deserve." you nod, taking a sip of your tea. His eyes slowly move across your face again, his eyes narrowing with a subtle nod in agreement. "However, I will never again have to settle with pastries because this is fuckin' brilliant, Alfie." you say, taking another bite. Your praise catches him by surprise and you get to hear another laugh of his caused by your actions. 

"I reckon I won't ever get tired of hearing that." he says with a grin.

"Truth be told I have a bit of a sweet tooth." you nod, taking the last bite. Your fingers wiggle above the plate of fruit-filled baked goods. 

"That right?" he says, you can tell he's stored this bit of information for later by the way he rubs his hands together. 

"It is." you nod, looking at the plate and figuring out which you wanted next. "Look at these hotsy-totsy round ones." you giggle, he's watching you over clasped hands again."Probably best I had only tried your bread before." you chew and swallow again. "Or I'd have to drive all the way into town every day to get these little buggers." you pop the last bit into your mouth and return your gaze to his. 

"I'll have 'em brought to ya then." your chin pushes back into your neck slightly at his suggestion. His tone wasn't teasing, his face was settled into a pleasant expression as he watched you enjoying yourself. You believed him to find your behavior endearing. 

"Don't tease me, Alfie." you shake your head with a quiet huff of a laugh.

"I wouldn't tease ya now, yeah?" he says as if it were obvious, shaking his head back at you. 

"I couldn't possibly," you say with a high pitched inflection. "My weakness happens to be something that you are plentiful in so don't exploit me, please." you say playfully but it was honest. He lets out a short laugh at your words.

"However...If I send 'em to ya, you'll never have to come get 'em, will ya?" his head nods. "and I'll only get ya in here to see me on business." he sits back in his chair, his hands outstretched as if presenting the idea before the set linked together on his stomach. 

"Is that an official redaction of your previous offer?" you hold back and smile, settling back in your chair. If you kept eating sweets on an empty stomach you might get sick and you didn't want to chance that. You hold a roll between your fingers, picking bites off with your fingers gingerly. He grins at you but his eyes are mischievous. 

"Afraid so. That's officially off the table now, innit?" he nods, looking around the room. "I don't know if you happened to see the amount of cash you handed me but if tea with you leads to more of those then I have to keep ya comin' to see me, don't I?" his face is still friendly but the smile has disappeared from it. 

"Then I am regretful to inform you that I have no upcoming jobs planned right now." you subtly pout as if you're sad to give him the news. "Springs coming and I have lots of work to do with Abeille Company to keep me more than busy for awhile." your eyes widen to emphasize the amount of work that went into your legal business.

"May I ask what you've got going on with Abeille? Ya got a little farm with ya bees and what not?" he speaks with his hands, his voice seems genuinely curious.

"I wouldn't personally call it little." you shrug slightly with a mild smirk. "But I have my honey bees and I prefer to personally tend to them. I also have my berries, they don't take as much of my time because I have more people I pay to handle the stages of their care. It's the business aspect of the farming and gathering that takes the most time."

"And you like being around those buzzy bastards?" he says, his eyes focused on yours. 

"I do." you give him a soft smile. "Mostly because they make me money, let's be honest." you let out a small huff of a laugh. His closed mouth smile that you assume he doesn't realize you notice tells you he agrees with the sentiment. "I find the sounds of them when they're happy to be relaxing."

"Bees can be happy?" he asks, tyring not to sound condescending.

"Of course they can. They sing, they dance, they remember people, they're fascinating." you say with genuine fondness for your workers. "My berries and garden wouldn't be nearly what they are without them either. They're the real stars of the company." 

"Thus the name of your company." he says narrowing his eyes at you.

"Oui." you cheekily respond.

"If you like them so much, why, might I ask, do you partake in the business activities outside of Abeille?" he leans on the table, his voice is low and paced. 

"Personal question, that." you hold your face to be more reserved.

"I wanna know what brought a sharp business minded person such as yourself to want to be in this sort of life." his voice is cool and collected. Sure he could use any and all information you choose to give him against you. 

However, you found no malice in his voice. Although you found it hard to believe that someone like Alfie Solomons was taking time to get to know you without a reason. You take a deep breath and choose your words. 

"I found myself to have a natural inclination to find trouble and yet always find my way out of it since I was a little girl." you return your gaze to his. "The money is a grand side affect of this natural inclination now." you let out a sigh. "But I also happen to be just..." you scrunch your nose just slightly to emphasize your upcoming words. "Very, very good at it. " your voice swings low, the grin and narrowing of your eyes in combination with the delivery of your confession brings a shift of energy between the two of you for a moment.

"That's what my men said too." he states with his voice dropping to match your own. 

"Are you inclined to believe the same?" you ask with a tilt of your head, meeting his eyes without hesitation. His nose twitches at your question. 

"From the retelling of what happened and seeing the fruits of your labor, now settled in my left pocket, I believe I am indeed inclined to agree, yeah." he speaks more slowly when he divulged bits of information about you, to you. 

"The approval of Alfie Solomons." you grin. "Well that's something to write home about now, isn't it?" you're only slightly teasing him. In all honesty, you were thrilled to hear he'd reached this conclusion. You knew it was only a matter of time but you truly hadn't expected him to be so intelligent as to so quickly recognize your value and skill. You hoped his trust wasn't too far behind. 

Ollie enters the office. "Your last appointment for the day has arrived, Mr. Solomons." you say softly with a polite nod.

"Alright. Let 'em sit, I'll be out in a minute," he says with a much more gruff tone that he'd used for the entirety of your conversation. "Well that's me then, yeah?" he says as he finishes his tea. Ollie leaves as quickly as he appeared. 

"I'll take my cue then as well." you give him a warm smile, standing and putting your coat back on as his mustache twitches, you're assuming it's doing this at the thought of his next meeting. 

"Yeah, right. Time to end this little tea party, innit?" he says with a groan as he stands to see you out. 

"You make a much better party host than I anticipated. I dare to say I enjoyed it." you compliment him, standing tall as he approached you. 

"Well thank you for making it so, yeah?" he leans down to give you a soft kiss from his lips to both your cheeks. 

"Don't let your busy bee's keep you from coming to see me now." the way the corner of your mouth pulled back at his words wasn't entirly voluntary as he hovered over you, so close you felt the heat radiated from him. 

"If they make a fuss at my absense then I'll tell them the orders are from Alfie Solomons and I'm sure they'll understand." you joke, your smiling showing teeth as you turn to head towards the door. You stop and quickly spin around as your hand reached for the knob. You saunter over to his desk that he's already tossed a heavy book upon. His eyes move slowly to yours, he's unsure of your motives for your behavior. "I forgot one small thing." you say reaching into your pockets. 

"Oh yeah? What's that now?" he says, his hand resting on his desk as his full attention was on you. Just how you preferred it. 

"In the thick of the robbery, since it went so smoothly, I happened upon something that caught my attention," you say enthusiastically, retrieving the large gold ring from your coat, holding it between your fingers. You half smile and hold the ring out towards him. "I have to say it reminded me distinctly of you at that moment and I knew I had to take it for myself," you explain. He takes the ring in his fingers, looking it over closely. His eyes smoothly move and focus back on you. "Consider it a little something extra from me personally. A thank you for your help, something celebratory if you will."

"Does who you stole the jewels for know you kept this?" he calculatedly responds, rubbing his beard with the hand not holding the ring. His fingers twist the ring back and forth between themselves.

You give him a devious smile."Just don't get used to me leaving you with parting gifts, now, yeah?" you smirk and turn away from him, making a smooth exit.


	4. 60 Feet Tall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song for this chapter is 60 Feet Tall by The Dead Weather.  
> This chapter contains graphic violence and some canon-typical slurring.

"I wonder what she's gonna do this time," John mutters from the far end of the table, picking at his nails, huffing out a laugh. "Oh, I bet she's wearin' red today, brothers." he says, laughing to himself.

"Oh, come on now, John, don't start." Arthur scolds his younger brother, turning his head to him but not his eyes. Arthur was blankly staring into the grain of the table.

"I'm sure it'll be a red dress day from speaking with her on the telephone." Tommy chimes in, glaring at them both as he walks back and forth across the floor of the Garrison. 

"And how are you still livin'? You of all of us should hope she's not in red today. You're the one that got all balled up and conned her into this mess." John retorts. 

"I did not con her and since you can not strangle anyone through the telephone, I am still alive and I still have to deal with this, so shut up and let me handle it." he answers, his voice low.

"She's gonna be so fuckin' mad." Arthur mumbles, not so much in retort but he felt bad for you. "I'd put my money on red today." As much as he did enjoy your lethal escapades together, when it was just one of you angry without the other, there was no fun to be had by either of you. 

"What'd you do to her, Thomas?" Alfie shouts as he comes up the back hallway into the bar. 

"It's not so much me as Sabini." Tommy says, shaking the hand holding a cigarette towards Alfie. 

"What a twist of the truth that is." Arthur replies, nervous in anticipation of your iminent arrival. 

"What is it you've lured me into today, Tommy?" Alfie's tone is scolding, pulling up a chair to the far side of a long table sat in the middle of a cleared Garrison. 

"Alfie. I've invited you as a mediator of sorts. I figured she might be more inclined to behave herself if you're here. A living witness as to what happens to us here today. I believe you are the only among us to have not wronged her in some way." 

"Yet." Arthur says in a vaguely intimidating way. Alfie narrows his eyes in question at the man ignoring his presence otherwise across the room.

Tommy stops to stand in the space between the two chairs to his left next to his brothers and Alfie. "I went through with an alternative plan from what I had discussed with her previously." his fingertips rest on the top of the table, his head up as he speaks with no enthusiasm. 

"No, she fuckin' told you this would happen if you let the Italians in on it. Her words exactly." Arthur interupts, his voice much less somber than it was.

"I remember her words, Arthur." Tommy says with a sigh, closing his eyes for a moment. He takes a deep breath and goes back to explaining the situation, his words directed at only Alfie. "I lied to her and said I wouldn't ask for the Italians help to scope out a place for her that she's had her eye on robbing. But, it was in their territory and I didn't want to deal with them being fuckin' pricks about it. It was a very ambitious job. Even for her." he takes a moment to push back feeling bad about what he'd done. "The fuckin' Italians get spooked and kill every guard on duty. Now the place is sealed tighter than a tomb and there is no way in for the foreseeable future." the last part comes out faster than the rest.

"And?" Alfie demands, being able to tell he isn't getting the full extent to the cause of your anger.

"And they stole things while they were in there that they are refusing to hand over." his head dips as he adds the last words, laced with annoyance.

"Ah. There is it is, now, see?" Alfie nods, "Just tell the truth Tommy, that's all ya gotta do." he shakes his head and tsks him. He motions with his hand at Tommy and looking at the two other Shelby's at the other end of his side of the table in solidarity at being disappointed with him. "They got something she had her eye on, didn't they?" his voice dips low with a tone of knowing, directed by to Tommy.

"Yes." he says flatly, refusing to look at him.

"Oh, I do imagine she will be quiet upset by that now, yeah?" he can't help the grin that spreads across his face, fully at the expense of Tommy. 

"One of those fuckin' eggs she goes on about." Arthur mumbles, his elbows resting on the table in front of him, watching the door.

"Fuckin' Faberge?" Alfies voice goes higher pitched. "Where in hell was she trying to break in to?" his voice grows louder. Tommy ignores his question.

"Have you ever seen Gen angry, Alfie?" Tommy asks, turning his head to him. 

"No I have not had, what sounds like, the distinct pleasure to witness this event." his hands clasp over the handle of his cane.

"Well, you're fuckin' about to." John grumbles, chewing his toothpick as he sits straight up in his chair, adjusting his jacket. Alfie's head quickly swivels towards the door.

"Best shut your mouths, all of ya." Arthur says as he stands from his chair to greet you as your silhouette appears in the frosted glass of the door, pausing before reaching for the handle. They all see and share a glance as they can see the red of your dress through the foggy surface. 

You walk through the door to see the four men, all looking at you in a different way. You were angry. You were seething. Did you want to scream and say things Tommy would deflect until he was alone with his thoughts in his drunken mind, alone in the middle of the night, turning his blue eyes red? Yes. But were you? No. You had been lied to. That very specifically stung. It hurt so deeply you were numbed to it. Thomas should thank his lucky stars for that. Your planning of the job that you'd been working on for quite some time was now voided out. You would get over that eventually. You were not weeping for the loss of life of the guards. They knew what they were signing up for. Were you mad that things you craved to be your own were now in the hands of those you considered your enemies? Yes. You weren't sure how long it would take to get over that aspect. But in the meantime you tried to appear more like an abyss, calm with the threat of danger lying just under the surface instead of roaring in like a typhoon. 

"This place finally looks worthy of me visiting it." you say, pulling off your gloves with your teeth, referring to the new golden interior of the bar. You hadn't been here in ages and under different circumstances, you'd be much more complimentary of the updates. 

"It'll never be worthy of you, sweetheart." Arthur's gruff tone did disarm you if only for a few milliseconds. He approaches you with opens arms, waiting for you to reciprocate. 

"My peach." you say, patting his cheek and wrapping your arms around his neck in a hug. He tightly embraces you, shaking your body just slightly in a show of enthusiasm at your words of praise. You place a kiss on his cheek and he moves to the back of the chair he was sitting in. You look down your nose at John who was still gnawing his toothpick as his fingers wrapped around the end of it. 

"Well, c'mon then, up with you." you pleasantly command as he takes out his toothpick and grins. You wrap your arms around him as well, kissing his cheek the same as Arthur, "It feels as if it has been many moons since I've seen you."

"It's felt even longer to me." he says with a cheeky grin as he pulls away from you.

You smirk, tapping his nose with your finger, "Charmers, the lot of you." you tutt, as he sits down.

Tommy doesn't open his arms as he knows what the response to be. "No point in letting you in close when I know you at the very least have a knife on you."

"I'd call you a smart boy if your actions didn't speak exactly the opposite of you." you hiss, shaking your head. Your eyes look to Alfie, who you are surprised to see here. You stand closer to Tommy, glaring up at him. "But you're smart enough to bring someone not a brother here today so I don't slap the piss out of you for lying to me." you hiss quietly. "Your's will be coming Shelby." you say before moving your attention to your unexpected guest. "What brings you all the way out here, Alfie?" you inquire, your tone now welcoming. He stands as you get closer. 

"It seems as though you do. Since our Tommy here has gone and fucked up everything for you, hasn't he?" he kisses your hand instead of your cheeks. He's cautious of you. Good. He should be today. "I almost wept at the news of him ruining your plans to get your hands on Feberege, I did." he says, slightly pouting in his almost sincere words. He holds your hands in his. "I am truly, very sorry for your loss." You sigh as you hold eye contact with him.

"So am I." your eyelashes flutter and you turn your head. Alfie is familiar with the longing look he finds in your eyes as you think of your prize. "Beautiful she was." You clear your throat after you pause for a few seconds. You move to sit in the closest chair. Tommy sits to your left. You wait in silence.  
\-----------  
Sabini sits across from Tommy, another vaguely recognizable man to his right, and from the looks of him, a much lower ranking man to his left. This man is seated across from you. 

You let Tommy speak first, you knew how this worked. Your hands are in your lap, your back straight and your eyes full of the fury of a woman scorned. 

"Who's she?" Sabini asks Tommy, his gloved hand motioning to you. 

"The party in question that has been wrong by the consequences of your men's actions." Tommy states plainly, you can tell by the stiffness in his shoulders he wasn't happy with how this was going already. Neither were you.

"Address your questions of me, to me, Mr. Sabini." you say low and even. Sabini rolls his eyes and looks over at you.

"Who are you?" he asks you with a condescending tone.

"Genevieve Durand." you state, your face hard and serious.   
The man across from you makes a scoffing noise. Your eyes slide to him, your brows lowering in the process.

"YOU'RE Durand?" he asks, his tone in disbelief.

You tilt your head at him in response. 

"Durand is a fuckin' woman? You had us taking orders from her? " he asks, shaking his head towards Sabini, looking back to another man standing behind them.

Sabini ignores him. "And what the fuck are you doing here Alfie?" he holds his arm out towards the man who sits a few feet to your right. 

"Moral support." he says cleverly.

"You know her?" he moves his hand to you.

"Yes. I know Miss Durand." he says, the use of your name telling you he realized the dehumanization you were currently feeling in droves. 

"If you continue speaking as if I'm not here there is going to be a problem." you state in a calm tone, your eyes moving to Sabini. He looks down his nose at you. 

"Miss Durand has suffered a loss at your hand due to my poor choice in help with this job." Tommy cuts in before Sabini opens his mouth. 

"Poor choice." Sabini spits out, resting and arm on the table. "You're lucky it was us who went in there, little thing like her tried to get into that fortress she'd have her neck snapped before she could raise her dress to hop the fence." he says incredulously to Tommy alone. 

You see Arthur shift in his seat at his words. Your eyes shut in an attempt to not reach for your knife, although your fingers were subconsciously working your dress up your leg instinctually from your anger. Alfie sees your hands moving unnoticed to the other side of the table. He doesn't know if he could be more interested in where this was going if he tried. 

"Tommy?" you say clearly and sweetly. His eyes are unsure but steady as they turn to you. "What's my favorite thing in the world?" you ask, your head turning towards him. He gives you a subtle smile. Sabini still wears the same daft look on his face.

"Your money." he confidently responds, looking back over to Sabini.

"Oui." you nod angrily, looking to Sabini yourself. "My money. You're fucking with my money." you shout the next words, your chin rising in anger. "Personne ne baise avec mon argent!" you say with a fire burning inside your gut. 

"Nobody's fucking with your money, sweetheart." Sabini says in a loud and whiney voice.

"Her money?" the man in front of you scoffs yet again after you speak. Your eyes are wide open this time as you stare into him. You don't even blink. "Just like a woman to speak for what her husbands earned." he says condescendingly.

"It is my fucking money. Mine alone. I insist you speak to me with more respect or else I'll be forced to do something like, call you a fucking goombah." you spit venomously at him. Your fingers slip into the holes of the custom made knife and it's holster on your thigh.

"Now you gonna let her talk to us like that?" he motions his hand to Tommy.

"She is inclined to speak however and to whoever she wants." Tommy clarifies even though you don't need him to. 

"Your boy should shut his fucking mouth before something bad happens." you say slowly. Your words are directed at Sabini but your eyes bore into the man across from you. 

"Arnold, let's try and be respectful, shall we?" Sabini says in an entirely fake and unconvincing voice.

"I'm not gonna be respectful to a woman who speaks to me like that. Should've known she didn't have a husband, who could put up with this?" he retorts, leaning forward on the table towards you in a, to him, macho move. This would prove to be a mistake on his behalf. 

"Were you in charge on the night in question?" you ask him. Your tone impressively steady.

"Yeah, I was, what's it to ya?" he asks, his nose scrunching up at you as he spoke.

"You've taken things from me. I should take things from you now." you hiss, your eyes moving across his face.

"I got nothing whats yours sweetheart." he says cockily, his head shaking as he spoke. 

You reach out like a flash, grabbing his tie and bouncing his head off the table. Your brass knuckle handled knife stabbing his tie into the table. Your hand remains on the handle, you lean in to speak to the man, ignoring the gun pulled on you from Sabini's back up. Sabini has pushed his chair away. "Where is my FUCKING EGG!" you shout.

"The fuck you doing?" he shouts, the fear in his voice makes goosebumps break out over your skin in pleasure. 

"I know what was in that fucking house and I know the Faberge egg is no longer in the house so WHERE THE FUCK IS IT?" you shout your last words again. 

"Listen you fucking crazy-" he's starting to blubber.

"CHOOSE YOUR NEXT WORDS VERY CAREFULLY!" your eyes wide, your brows high, your voice loud and booming so close to his face, your knee already on the edge of the table, ready to pounce. "Or they will be your last." you add, your crazed state of mind evident in the varying inflections of the few words, all punctuated with a villainous laugh. 

"You gonna let her get away with acting like a fucking lunatic like this?" he looks desperately at the other men in the room both on his side and not. No one speaks against you. You see the hope fade from his face as the fear for his life rise. You let out a low, deep growl of a laugh.

"You should be fucking locked away, you fucking-" you feel it's time to end your suffering at the hand of the words of this man. You end the suffering for anyone who had ever had to hear a word uttered from his disgusting mouth. 

You move so quickly in your rage. You yank the knife from the table, holding it as you project yourself across the table. You grab his shoulders, taking both him and the chair down with you as you land on top of him with your knees on his chest. You've pushed off the table hard enough to have moved you both a few feet back from where his chair had been. You hear his cries of pain and your teeth just grit tighter. No one in the room moves but you. Shock, excitement and confusion surge through the air. You punch him in the jaw repeatedly. You keep hitting him until he has few teeth left to defend himself with. After finding him weakened enough, his face now less recognizable. You shove your hands into his mouth, your nails digging into his tongue. The way his eyes go wide, his pupils blown out as he looks up at you, it all just adds to the moment.   
Killing was almost always personal in some way to you. You never killed without a reason. The blood from his rapid pulse makes him bleed in gushing waves as your knife cuts into the thick attached part of his tongue in the back of his mouth. You feel the blood hit your face and chest. He gurgles, chokes and cries beneath you, he faded and bled out surprisingly fast. You start to fade out of your animalistic mindset and gulp and wet your lips. 

"You fucking animal!" Sabini shouts. You're sure he thinks whatever he is saying is very important but you block him out. Your ears ring slightly as if a bomb had gone off. You look at your chest and hands, lips frowning at the blood across your face and arms. You stand and move one leg so you're not straddling the man any longer. You turn to Sabini, your knife still in your hand. 

"You took something from me so I took something from you. As far as I'm concerned, we're even. For now." you state calmly, your blood splattered body a strange juxtaposition with your words. 

"You're fucking insane!" he shouts, his arms up in the air. 

"Suck the entirety of my fucking cock, Sabini." you say, wiping the bloody blade off on his jacket as he looks as if he might gag. You hike up your dress and slide the knife back into its place on your thigh. You drop your dress and head towards the bar as Sabini and his men scoop up the body and leave hastily. 

You hop up onto the bar to sit. Arthur is the first to rise from his seat. He lights a cigarette and hands it to you.

"It's like you know me, Arthur." you give him a tired smile.

"I do, luv." he says, his hand patting your knee. He'd seen your rage before. He'd helped you work out your rage on deserving people over the years. Truly another soul who had the ability to embrace that darkness that bubbled up like bile in your throats. Arthur moves to behind the bar but you've already leaned back and grabbed a bottle of whiskey, opening it and taking a drink from the bottle. 

You take a sharp inhale and see John, his chair turned around, his legs spread out, hands in his lap, grinning at you. John had also seen your rage. It entertained him to no end. It surprised him still at times but that was part of the enjoyment for him.

"Fuckin' Italians." he says with his voice threatening to turn into a laugh as he reaches out to grab one of the glasses Arthur's put on the bar. 

You see Arthur raise his hand and you three clink the bottles together lightly mumblin' "Fuckin' Italians." as you always did after fighting a member of said group. The first words either John or Arthur really remembered from you had turned into an inside joke amongst you three over the years. Tommy rolls his eyes at the display. 

He was up and looking at the damage to the floor. "I'll pay for the floor, Tommy, that one's on me." you say, nodding to him as his eyes meet yours, he mirrors your gesture.

Your inense eyes move across the bar, landing on Alfie. In the midst of this, your brain called out, 'Poor, sweet Alfie' even though you knew this not to be the truth. You were hoping the brutal approach you'd heard of him taking would keep him from cutting all ties with a woman like you after witnessing that. Now that he'd seen what you do. But as you take a damp towel from Arthurs' hand from behind you, your eyes still locked on Alfie, you don't see any hint of running from him. If anything, he seemed even further planted as you looked at each other. 

"I'm afraid I've failed entirely at behaving myself and for that I apologize for what you've seen me do here today." you say, your voice breathier than you intended. You were still a bit unexpectedly winded. You wipe your hands with the towel. 

"What on earth for?" he says softly with an offense to your apology, approaching you. Your eyebrows raise as he shows no hesitation in moving right up next to you at the bar, sitting by your legs, looking up at you. Your eyes are back to their dark, doe-eyed selves as you blink down at him. "That was fucking brilliant." he grins. He took in your disheveled appearance. Some of your hair had fallen, the dark waves framing your collar bones with the curved neckline of your dress. The blood against your pale skin, dotting you like constellations in the night sky. "A woman telling a man to suck the entirety of her fucking cock, " he says with emphasis on your words being your own, "is something that I have not seen before." he nods, his brows knitted together at you in thought. 

"No one ever expects the ugly words to come from such a pretty face now do they, Genny?" Arthur teases, referring to your usage of crass words in anger. "The woman's an artist." You can't help but smile at his words in combination with how Alfie was now looking at you. His eyes didn't leave you.

You don't hide your reaction to his words. "That she is." he says in an oddly proud tone, his head nodding. His voice slower and lower the more his eyes narrowed at you. "An artist who works in the mediums of sword and word with brutality and finesse?" he points a finger at you, his other hand still perched atop his cane. His eyes flick over to Tommy and back to you. "That's a rare skill set, innit? And from a woman who looks like a work of art herself?" you subtly reciprocate the enthusiastic expression he gives you. 

"Always good to meet fans of my work." you say full of yourself. You grin down at him, your eyelids lowered just slightly, not hiding your still large pupils. He lets out a loud laugh, tapping his cane against the floor with his pleased face focused on yours.


	5. I Bet You Look Good On The Dance Floor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song to go with the fic, Arctic Monkeys -I Bet You Look Good On The Dance Floor.

You’re having a late afternoon tea again with Alfie. You’re wearing a much more casual dress, the tight bodice and light weight fabric across your chest and shoulders, breezy layers made up the skirt. You’d had to start switching over your closet for the rising heat of the season. You sat in the chair with one of your legs underneath you, your elbow rests on the table, your chin in your hand. You felt an air of ease between the both of you now. The first initial “feeling each other out” stages of building relationships like these now passing without significant trauma. At this point it was going on weeks since you’d last spoken. 

 

“I was surprised to see this meeting was for pleasure and not business with the short notice you gave.” Alfie has a slight grin on his face, fingers delicately touching china. 

 

“You told me not to let my bee’s keep me from seeing you and I found myself being supremely aggitated with how much my bees needed me this morning and your words just floated to the surface of my mind.” you move your other hand as you speak, leaning towards the basket of bread. This time there’s more of the pretty little decorated round fruit filled doughnuts you’d praised so much last time. You don’t hesitate to take one between your fingers. “A hive was knocked over and I did not want to deal with it,” you shake your head taking a quick bite that your barely even chew. “Then I remembered I am the boss and I have people to handle these sorts of things so I don’t have to anymore.” you shrug slightly, finishing off the puff. You take a sip of tea with your free hand. “Those are new aren’t they?” you motion with one finger to the basket.

 

“You weren’t lying when you said you liked these, were ya?” he gives you a pleasant look with his eyebrow raised. His shoulders were much more relaxed than the last time you were here. 

 

“Not in the slightest.” you admit, your voice lowering and shaking your head, your eyes swinging back to another pastry. “Told you.” you say motioning towards him with a puff in your hand. “Sweet tooth.” you say and take a bite. He takes the same sort of roll as last time and begins to pull it apart.

 

There’s a knock at the door and he shouts for them to come in. You sit up straight as the two men walk towards Alfie, clearly workers as they wore the same apron, with the same black and white smudges across them. One was older and bald, the younger of the two shorter with green eyes. You were thinking of how they resembled emeralds when the light hit them as you kept noticing a nervous tick already in the time he walked from the doorway and stood a few feet from you. 

 

Alfie pulls out his glasses, you sip your tea and watch the other man, waiting to leave with the other over the rim of your cup. Something was off about this kid. Alfie is discussing what seems to be rather mundane numbers with ingredients you recognized. The boys eyes glance over you and as he sees you studying him and he gets anxious. His fingers pick in the pocket of his apron. He leans forward just slightly, biting the inside of his lip. He’s staring at one space, you’re assuming to keep his eyes from darting everywhere. His eyes roll up and he lets out a very subtle heavier breath than usual, he’s acting like a bored child now, impatient. You keep looking at him, sipping your tea, your back against the chair, elbows perched out, both hands raising your tea to your lips. You see him tense and hesitate when Alfie spoke to him, then he nodded too many times. 

Something didn’t seem right. This didn’t seem like any first job jitters to you. You watch him leave, after he shuts the door behind them, not looking up to either of you before he pulls it to. You cast your glance downward, slowly moving it back to your cup, taking another sip, in thought about the kid.

 

“What was all that about?” he asks, moving papers into a pile and off the table.

 

“I wasn’t listening, sorry, what?” you say, snapping out of your focus and returning your eyes to his. 

 

“You were shooting daggers at Abe.” he says without any judgment to it, just a statement of fact.

 

“Is that the young ones name?” you ask, sitting your elbow back on the table, trying to relax your shoulders that had tensed.

 

“Yeah, it is.” he says, his expression still neutral. “What’d he do to you?” he says with not enough humor in his voice to warrant it being a joke with certainty. 

 

“He was a bit too fidgety for my liking.” you reply without inflection, sipping your tea. 

 

“Fidgety?” he says, motioning for you to explain, his chin going down into his chest slightly as he listened.

 

“His body language was twitchy and it didn’t seem like innocent anxious energy.” your eyes move towards the direction of the door.

 

“Do you usually read people like this?” he asks, swirling the liquid in his cup. 

 

“I suppose it’s a bit second nature at this point but yes, I do.” you nod slightly, looking back down at the table. 

 

“So what is that women’s intuition going on about?” he asks, his fingers laced together in front of him.

 

“I don’t trust him.” you look over to Alfie, your eyes clear and calm, your words certain. The corner of his mouth pulls back just slightly at your words.

 

“Strong statement to make for not even speaking to the boy.”

“I didn’t have to.” you say casually but he gets the intensity behind your words.

“Right.” he says, his mouth pulling back into a half smile for just a few seconds. "And what brought you to this conclusion?“ he says, his head shaking just slightly. You sigh and purse your lips at his approach to questioning you.

 

"Too many twitches.” you count a one on your hand, “And once he realized you were just talking about bread ingredients he immediately became disinterested and wanted to leave.” you hold up a second finger. “So he had no use for this information and that seems strange, seeing as that’s related to his job.” you say rising a third finger before retracting them all and picking up another puff in your mildly aggitated explanation. He narrows his eyes, his fingers now messing and twisting his beard in thought, not responding to you. You continue after a roll of your eyes at how he was choosing to pull information from you. “Chances are he’s been paid or pursueded to come in here and gather information and repeat it back to someone.” he nods in response this time. 

 

“And what would you reccomend, Genevieve, in a situation such as this?” he asks, tone still fairly smug. 

 

“I’d recommend you not hire him in the first place.” you state, your mouth pursing with attitude, knocking back on his taking attitude. “That’s what I’d do.” you finish off a piece of pastry with a pop to punctuate the level of retaliation you were presenting at his round about line of questioning. 

 

“Oh.” he nods his head in amusement. “Well.” he says, a grin blooming across his face. “Well we can’t all be blessed with the intuition of a woman, now can we?” he says, his tone not nearly as stinging as you anticipated.

 

“No we cannot.” you say, giving him a small smile to show your acceptance of his back handed compliment and change in tone.

 

“What if I told you, you were right?” he ticks his head to the side, one hand in his beard, the other’s finger taps the tabletop between the two of you.

 

“I wouldn’t be surprised.” another grin comes across his face.“But I’m intrigued so continue, please.” you give a sly closed mouth smile. You can see he holds back an eye roll at you and you feel the slight urge to laugh but it doesn’t travel further than your thoughts. 

 

“He was hired in for being the son of a friend of a someone’s fuckin’ uncle, i dunno.” he shrugs. “As it were a small favor for someone to hire the boy on, right?” he looks to you for a response and you give him a neutral nod. “I’ve been feeding him wrong information to see where it all goes.” he says with his hands motioning to a presentation of his plan.

 

“And have you found out where the leak flows out to?” you ask with a lowered chin, showing his words interest.

 

“I have, yeah.” he nods, his words a touch higher than usual.

“Just waiting to fuck them up with the wrong address on the right night?” you grin, taking a sip of tea and setting it back on the table. 

 

“I like how your brain works, Genevieve, I do, yeah?” he wags a finger at you, other hand stroking his beard. You let out a small huff of a laugh. You shrug in faux hesitancy of accepting the compliment. 

 

“It’s a good brain.” you nod and a small laugh escapes. 

 

“I have a proposition for you, Miss Durand.” he begins, leaning forward, hands and elbows on the table, clasped together. You mirror his motions and give him a close mouthed smile as his eyes narrow with mischief at you. “Are you open to using that brain of yours, to help me make a few judgments on some powerful people that I might be interested in doing some business with?” his tone is charming and his face is surprisingly warm for business negotiations.

 

“I just might be tempted to do that, Mr. Solomons.” you nod, your eyes playful but your face straight. This felt like a real opportunity to be the neck that turns the head. Being a bird in his ear, him seeking your personal opinion on things that would affect his business, you were certainly intrigued with the possibilities.

 

“May I tempt you then, to use your brain for my own personal gain with an invitation to an Art Charity’s Ball?” he speaks purposely and with his hands. His chin moves as he clearly speaks.

 

“When is this Ball?” you ask, the corner of your mouth pulling back more than you meant it to, your dimple starting to appear at the resistance you put up to hide the smile. 

 

His chin bobs back in surprise at your response but his face stays pleasant and still. “2 weeks from now. It’s in London, yeah?" 

 

Your eyes move from side to side as you look at the table for a moment in thought. You had nothing on your schedule, so a night out didn’t sound bad at all really. "What’s the dress?” you ask, a smile showing your teeth now growing.

 

“Oh these people get all sorts of tarted up, don’t they?” he grins. “Very fancy, ball gowns and jewels and all that.” he says animatedly speaking in a gruff voice. Now knowing you had the chance to dress up, well the choice was already made before he finished that sentence, wasn’t it?

 

“Consider me tempted.” you say warmly. 

 

“Ah, it’s always the jewels that get you, isn’t it, Genevieve?” he laughs, his shoulders moving as his hands push on the table to straighten his back in his chair. 

 

“Normally I would agree with that sentiment but don’t sell yourself short on your own company, Aflie.” you pause for just a second, just long enough to shake your head once. “A night out with you in combination with art and the smell of money in the air was enough to tempt me without the addition of gowns and jewels.” the smile starts with closed lips and shifts into something that makes an audible sound. 

 

For a small moment you left Alfie Solomons without a clever retort to your kind words. 

\---------------------------------------

((SPOKEN IN FRENCH))

“I find myself being very drawn to blue this evening for some reason.” you say in the middle of your closet, your fingers in your mouth, your hair up and tied to set into curls to wear down later. 

 

“This is for the art school charity ball, correct?” she says, smoothing her hands over the blue ball gown’s length.

 

“Oui. Lots of money in the same room as me tonight. I have to look like money to attract it.” you say, your rounded hip jutted out, your breasts weighing heavily on one forearm underneath them, the other your thumb nail between your teeth.

 

“You’ll be there will Mr. Solomons, seems you’ve attracted money already. Perhaps those midnight romps in the garden are paying off.” she smirks at your mystic habits.

 

“Perhaps. But I’m talking bigger money than Alfie,” you say picking up a purple gown. “I’m talking potential buyers.” you say, your eyebrow raising, swinging with your hand on the skirt of the dress.

 

“Good to know you are keeping your mind on business tonight.” Claire says with a nod, pulling open drawers of your best jewels. 

 

“My mind is almost always on business nowadays, you know this.” you lay the dress back onto the fainting couch against the wall.

 

“Oui, however, Mr. Solomons is the first man you’ve agreed to go out with since we’ve moved here. I know you’re aware of how long that’s been, thus you should see the importance of this decision.” she says, hanging up dresses she knew you weren’t going to wear. 

 

Your silence speaks more than your words do. You sigh and run your fingers over the white diamond and sapphire necklace. You hold hanging diamond earrings up to your ears, a different one on each side to pick from. 

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten you called this one handsome.” she says almost under her breath.

 

“I know you don’t ever forget anything, Claire. You don’t have to constantly remind me.” you say annoyed, plopping the earrings down into the ornate velvet box. Your eyes rolling to the ceiling, your hands resting on the edge of the white with gold filigree chest of drawers. “If you think me as stupid as to not realize this than I don’t know what to tell you.” you mumble. 

 

“Don’t play the victim, it doesn’t look good on you.” she more so instructs than replies. 

 

“I’m not.” you snap. “Just let me try to enjoy getting ready? Leave all this heavy conversation for later and let me be a girl getting ready for date for a moment?” you angrily tug on the navy dress.

 

“Is this a date?” she asks with a suggestive tone, helping you into the dress. You look at yourself in the large gold framed mirror. 

 

“He has asked me out but I wouldn’t go so far as to call it a "date” in the traditional sense.“ you explain with a roll of your eyes at the logistics of it. ”The lines get fuzzy when business is involved.“ you say with a sigh, trying to concentrate on your choice of dress.

 

”I personally like this dress the best.“ she turns and holds out the large matching blue sapphire necklace and smaller diamond earrings. You smile warmly at her with your eyes a bit sad, but relieved that she’s dropping her interrogation. 

 

"I think this is the one as well.” you put on the earrings and she places the necklace around your neck as you clasp it, she goes to get a large sapphire ring

.  
“I suppose a fake wedding ring won’t be necessary tonight?” she smirks, putting the ring on your other finger. You narrow your eyes at her.

 

“Hush.” you say with a small huff of a laugh and a weak smile. “You’re starting to sound like my father with this dating and rings nonsense.” you wag your finger at her as she holds her hands up in surrender, going to grab the matching embroidered and sparkling shoes she knew you’d want to wear.


	6. Stop The World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song for this chapter is Stop The Word I Wanna Get Out With You by Arctic Monkeys.

You stand on the stairs of the grand room, a few steps up to have a viewpoint advantage, leaning on the huge marble columns with matching decorative banisters. The stairs lead up to a grand bar, spanning the expanse of the width of the staircase, impressively carved from stone. You were correct in your assumption the place would smell like money. The inside of the grand London hotel, surrounded by the lit monstrous stone exterior, was warm with the heat of the bodies within it. The heat from the day still lingering in the air within the stone walls. Everything was covered in filigree, velvet, and elaborate embroidery. You looked around, seeing the grand paintings moved out onto massive easels and podiums, littered across the grand room each with its own clusters of people dressed in some of their best. You floated with the tide of moving bodies around the paintings, speaking to the students and artists of the pieces, they were much more interesting than most of the dinosaurs in the room. They were here to show off their money and pretend to be deep intellectuals. You hear their musing through their cloud of intoxication this early in the evening already with their elementary understanding of color theory. You'd bought a lovely painting of cherry blossoms from a sweet young girl that had made you ache for Paris this time of year. 

You'd done a general sweep of the place, having gotten there a bit early purposely to do such a thing. You'd not been in this building before and you liked to know your entry and exit options if you were to be confined for the evening. You'd been approached by older gentlemen, as you almost always were at these sorts of events. A woman alone at such things was a beacon, telling them you were single or a whore and it didn't matter which. You'd politely ducked away and hidden to avoid their advances before returning to a high spot to watch for the arrival of Mr. Solomons. Your arms are crossed under your chest, hip jutted out on the stairs, your eyes continuously scanning the large room. 

He sees you before you see him, as you'd had to make a circle around the staircase to avoid another man. You've perched again on the bottom of the stairs, peering far out to see him coming in, you weren't looking among the faces already in the crowd and noticing your attention was elsewhere, he gets to take a long look at you uninterrupted. 

You didn't compare to anyone else in the entire room. Your dark blue floor-length gown shimmered in the light. He thought the sequins made the curves of your body reflect like the moon off the sea at night. The low V neckline mirrored in cut by the back, showed your pale skin, glowing from the oils you use, your arms exposed. The night chill hits your bare skin and you shiver, pulling tighter against you the long black fur scarf you're wearing draped down your back and across your forearms. The sun falling and the rise of the night makes the dimmed light of the room reflective off your large sapphire and diamond necklace. Your teardrop shaped diamond earrings, to match the shape of the stones on your necklace, are nestled into your dark curled hair, falling down the center of your back and framing your face.  
You're the only woman in the room in your age group without the short haircut that was popular among your peers. You'd always found great pride and pleasure in your femininity and chose not to change what you already liked about yourself and your style as the trends changed, merely adopting the bits you liked as you knew they'd be out by next season anyway. Your eyes lined with makeup, big and dark connect with his as he gets closer. Your red lips smile in acknowledgment as you slink down the few stairs the floor to greet him.

His hat immediately created an intimidating silhouette as his large shoulders made people part to let him through. His cane was just as elevated as his choice in jewelry. His rings, bracelets, necklaces, and cufflinks all attracted your eyes like a magpie. You see the ring you gave him, the solid square shape of it easily recognizable to you. You choose not to mention it, but it does look as attractive on him as you thought it would. His top button on his shirt, undone in what you felt was a rebellious gesture to the black tie code of dress. His layers of necklaces settled in his chest hair just visible at the base of the hollow of his throat. Without his usual large coat you'd seen him in, covering his form, you got the see the breadth of him, impressive as he gets close enough for the deep hue of your dress to darken his blue eyes. 

"Mr. Solomons." you say with a playful, welcoming tone, holding out your hand. 

"Miss Durand." he says with the same underplayed excitement in his voice, his noticeably just groomed beard presses with his lips against your hand. "I don't think you're supposed to try 'n upstage the art, Genevieve but here you are." he grins and you roll your eyes but a laugh bubbles out of you from between smiling lips. You move in closer to him to speak more privately.

"You and your canny words, Alfie." you taunt with a warm soft tone, resting your fingers on the smooth fabric of his suit jacket for a fleeting moment. "I have to say that you look both powerful and expensive tonight," you say with a raised eyebrow, shrugging your shoulders to fluff up the fur around your shoulders in a playful gesture, swatting the end of the fur at his jacket. A reserved, closed mouth smile with big bright eyes and raised brows greet you as you pester him. "If there are two aesthetics I enjoy more I'm afraid I have not learned of them yet." you grin, your nose scrunching up with it to show your sincerity but also put him at ease with your affection. He tips his hat at you in acknowledgment. He looks around the room behind you as his tongue rolls across his teeth, as he lets out a low rolling laugh. His eyes return to you, the corners crinkled in a genuine smile down at you. 

"I would say the very same of you tonight." he leans in slightly, his eyes away from yours.

"You like it, Alfie? I got it from Paris." you say, opening the length of fur in your arms to show him the full front of the gown. You give a slight back and forth with your shoulders as you watch him suppress that masculine, predatory look that sat behind his eyes.

"The blue. It suits you, dunnit?" his lower lip partially reveals his bottom row of teeth as he drags out his last words as if he were still considering his opinion. His expression shifts into a much lighter message, he moves his hands with is words. "You look like a million pounds, ya do." his fingers run over his trimmed beard as he nods, enjoying the invitation to look at you although he's quick to not overstay his welcome as he changes the subject. "I hope you've not been waiting too long on me." he says, leaning away, his eyes still on the necklace before he breaks the connection to gaze over the crowd as he stands back up straight. His face falls into that raised brow visual stalking expression when he was surveying a space. 

"I haven't." you shake your head, "I've bought one painting and three gentlemen have approached me since I've been here so I suppose I've not been here that long." you say with a low chuckle. 

"Only three? With you looking like that I'm surprised to see you not turning down proposals at this point in the evening." his straightens his posture, his voice a bit gruffer and teasing, inflecting in a sarcastic way as his ringed fingers hold the lapel of his coat.

"The night is still very young though, isn't it?" you kid, your chin moving as you speak. 

"It is young, Genevieve, but let's not keep ya out too late now. Shall we try to enjoy ourselves before we shake these drunken, pompous wigs for their secrets?" he holds his arm out to you and you happily accept it, locking your eyes with his as you hide the girlish, dimpled smirk that threatened to stay on your face. You were entirely too excited to be out tonight back into the plush, lavish lifestyle people who attended these things lived. You had this entertaining gentleman on your arm for the night, talking of art and your fondness of it. You shared laughs that traveled all the way up to your eyes, even if you didn't look into each others during these moments because you were trying to repress your laughter and not build and continue it. Which only made you both want to not only laugh more but louder against the expected politeness from you at these sorts of events. 

You picked a more secluded spot to sit together towards the back of the crowd for a presentation from one of the schools the funds benefits. Your legs are crossed towards him at the knee, your elbow on the arm of your red velvet and gold chair, your arms touching from his placement on his chair arm, next to yours, not feeling awkward now due to being on it on all night up to this point in the evening.   
You sit alone at a table together, close but not too close. You speak in a soft voice, talking about how you couldn't believe how one of the young artists had used a technique you'd never heard of to compose his landscapes, but you see that he's fallen still, his head cheated forward but his attention not in that same direction. Upon closer inspection you see him chewing his cheek, his eyes in full focus on the sapphires around your neck. 

"Here," you mumble, moving your arms up to unclasp the heavy necklace."Would you like to see it?" you mock rhetorically, presenting it to him in your hands. 

"Yes, please." his words polite but his voice dark, taking it delicately into one hand, pulling a loupe out from his coat and you want to laugh at the fact that he just happened to have the magnifying eyepiece in his pocket if you hadn't found it so endearing in it's own obsessive way. 

"You've been eyeballing it all evening, just don't drool on it, please." you instruct, rubbing the place where the stones sat on your skin. 

"She's beautiful," he says quietly but enthusiastically. "I didn't think it could look more so, anywhere but around your neck but I find myself disagreeing upon this closer inspection." he says, almost mumbling to himself. If you weren't leaning so close you might've missed a few words. He was clearly having a moment with this piece and you didn't blame him in the least. It was one of your favorites. 

"Very complimentary of you," you say with sarcasm. "I spent a long time looking for such clarity in gems in such a grand necklace." you express fondly, seeing the teardrop-shaped gems slip over his fingers like stone tears as he fusses with it.

"Time well spent." he says in a groan of jealousy, placing the eyepiece back into his pocket and so effortlessly moving, placing the piece back around your neck and clasping it for you. In the moments his fingers manipulated the clasp, his arms steady on your shoulders, you can't help but notice how he doesn't smell of rum tonight but of something even more masculine.

"Wonderful taste in jewels tonight, Genevieve." he says in a polite toned, gruff voice. He's quiet for a moment, his hand hovers over yours, he taps your finger that wears the simple but sizeable sapphire ring. "This one here would assure a body sank right to the bottom of the canal, yeah?" You let out a low huff of a laugh. 

"Yes and she's a personal favorite of mine so don't suggest she'd be on any sort of hand that would let itself end up in the bottom of the canal." you hold it out, your arm outstretched, shifting your hand to see the facets shine, admiring the ring. 

"I'd never suggest such a thing about her. Merely an observation." he grins and sits back in his chair. "Now, I'll let ya when someone of interest comes in, yeah?" he says softly, his head tilting towards yours for the duration of his words. He looks around the room, his brow furrowed. You nod in response, glancing over at him in acknowledgment.

"I've only recognized one person here tonight." you whisper.

"You rubbin' with some big shoulders if you're friendly with these types."

"The woman in the mauve dress, red hair." you point with your foot, hidden from view from everyone but him. "I met her groundskeeper at a farmers market and ended up helping her produce business with some of my bees." you explain. 

"It's funny how those bees have been takin' you all sorts of places, innit? Those bees become more and more interesting everytime you talk about 'em" he looks over the couple you're referring to. 

"That's because they are interesting, Alfie." you say obviously. The corner of his mouth hidden from you pulls back at your no-nonsense tone with him. He continues looking around the room, his hand rubbing his beard, he was in thought. He's pulled out of it as he feels the soft skin your hand against his cheek as you whisper into his ear. "Do you know the man with the lavender tie? With the salt and pepper hair?" you try to say as quietly as you can while still being heard. He swallows and clears his throat, shifting in his seat and subtlely motioning in the direction of the man. You see you'd made him react from your touch. Although it had been subconscious at the time, you now feel the tiny thrill of the acknowledgment from him, although unintentionally so, that your touch could affect him. The troublemaker inside you delights. You hurried to shut her up. 

"I've done business with him before, yeah." his voice gravely, his mouth frowning slightly. 

"That did not end well, I will assume." you say smugly. Alfie side eyes you, his lips pursed. "Although I couldn't tell which of you tried to turn on the other because I can see he has some dark tendencies."

"You can see darkness in people, can ya?" he says quietly, his voice with less teasing than you'd expect to come from him. 

"When someone wears it so proudly, yes." you could've gone over how you could tell he was a powerful man who did bad things by his body language and those around him. Although there was something about his hooded almost white blue eyes that had made your insides twitch with a warning when they'd glanced over yours. 

"And what about the drunken Lord near the front in the blue and gold?"

"I would suggest he learn how to hide how he's fucking his wife's..." you tilt your head and narrow your eyes. "Cousin? Sister? Hmm." you hum to yourself in thought. He chuckles and pats your arm, telling you without words that you were correct.

"Some of these poor women," you sigh, shaking your head. "I wonder how many know they're husbands prefer their nights within the secrecy of horse stalls with stable boys to their own feather beds with their affection starved wives." you pout your lips as you shrug your shoulders. The genuine enough hurt in your voice strikes him as you hadn't been one to show much sympathy to these other people so far tonight. 

"You are impressive, Genevieve, ya know that?" Alfie lets out a small amused sound, he knocks your arm with his elbow. You look at him with wide-eyed innocence and a soft face, one it might bother him to scold publicly. He looks down at you in a mischievous way. "Now there's no way you can know those sorts of things, now, can ya?" he says with a touch of grit and taunt. "Even if your tales are very entertaining, yeah? Ya somehow manage to be poignant yet funny." his words complimenting you but sounding scolding. 

 

"A woman knows things, Mr. Solomons." you deepen your voice, your eyes still matched with his. "You'd be smart to place a little more faith in my words." you retort, your inflection up at the end, a playful warning. 

"Well I did invite you here tonight to do exactly that now, didn't I?" he says, thinking he's made your criticism look incorrect.

"Yes and I wasn't implying you weren't smart." you say, another casual and obvious statement from you as your lips warp into a quirky smile, showing your hand and letting him know you did not misspeak. The speaker rises to the podium and begins. As names are called, he whispers in your ear bits of information about them and what he'd like to know about them. 

You switched into work mode, your face back to a stoic neutral pose as you walk on his arm across a ballroom after the presentation. You mostly smiled politely and nodded, as the majority of questions were addressed to Alfie, but you watched and listened, people showing you their true intentions. You were given the distinct advantage of being the only sober two in all the conversations you had. You've been giving Alfie his money's worth work wise as this continued for what felt like hours. Having to giggle and touch your chest in flattery every time a wife interrogated you after being shooed away to let the boys talk, suggesting how you and Alfie looked so complimentary to each other. You hadn't appreciated the beauty and the beast reference one gentleman made but you weren't really in the position to retort. 

"Not that I'm not enjoying your company, Mr. Solomons. But I'm finding myself tired at this point in the night already due to the combination of sobriety and these people's painful personalities." you rub two fingers on one of your temples, and he pats your forearm. "After tonight I am reminded why I left Paris and the people in it." you roll your eyes before you wiggle and stretch your face to invigorate yourself. 

"If I could find the man I wanted you to meet, as he's alluded us since the presentation, we could end this night before we both go cross-eyed from having to interact with these bloated fucks, yeah?" he motions with his hand, not lowering his voice and you lower your head to hide your face against his jacket arm, not touching it but grazing it as you hid a laugh at his words. He sees your shoulders shake and he pretends he doesn't know that the memory how your upper lip raises to show your front two teeth when he makes you unexpectedly laugh with his crass words would be making its way into his thoughts later. 

"I find relief in knowing you are as miserable as I am." you whisper in a reassuring tone. "Who are we looking for? If I know what I'm looking for I can find him." you suggest politely. 

"'Ol lavender tie." he says low, voice groaning a bit as his neck stretched to look past the room you were in and into another. Your nose scrunches at the news. 

"The one I didn't like. Wonderful." you say sarcastically. 

"Well it's never all fun and games, is it?" he says obviously. You purse your lips together and scan the room as he plants you both by the bar. Eventually, the man comes to you.   
The closer he gets the more uneasy you get. You try to charge yourself up to protect yourself against how this guy tried to throw his bad energy around. You could tell immediately these two men were only being civilized because they were in public.

The man manages to disrespect you with a look without even opening his mouth. You know Alfie feels your body stiffen against him in your attempt to ground yourself and work through this without emotion. 

You're telling the man partial and incorrect information of your farm at his adamant request. 

"And you feel safe out there? Little sweet thing like you all alone out there in the wilderness?" he lights a cigarette as he speaks. 

"I've been given no reason to feel unsafe so far. I do take precautions, of course, living with the woods creatures so closely with civilization, I must." you state, your face purely informative in expression. 

"Oh, there are animals in the city that you have to protect yourself against too, darling." he exhales smoke towards the two of you, glancing between the two of you before settling on you again. 

"Yeah, I seem to have introduced her to one." Alfie snarks, his back straight, shoulder and feet planted wide, chin up in defiance. You quickly interject.

"Men musn't lower themselves to act like unevolved beasts, mustn't they?" you state with more insistence, looking to Alfie out of the corner of your eye before returning them to the other man, who was returning Alfie's glare, while his fingers fuss over the box of matches in his hand.

"That's where you're wrong, honey, some men MUST." he says, looking you over predatorily before snarling his lips while he brought the cigarette up to them while doing everything but snorting and stomping his feet to try and assert his rather pitiful need to show dominance with fire in his eyes.   
\----------  
You're waiting for your car, you pull your fur piece over your shoulders as the wet night air hits your bare skin. It wasn't just the dropping temperature that was making you feel chilled and unusually jittery. Alfie is looking at his pocket watch, he mumbles something about it being late, you only half listen as you're distracted by the man with the eerie eyes. 

"Alfie..." you say softly as your car pulls up and he moves you towards it with his arm hovering over your back. He opens your door for you and you turn to him. The surprise in his face isn't hidden, even on the dimly lit sidewalk as you take one of his hands into yours. "This will sound very cheeky of me and it isn't meant to be," you say with your eyebrows raised. "But if you find yourself in need of a place that no one would look for you, I offer you space at my home to ride out the storm I feel coming for you." you insist, even using a weaker tone to see if you could appeal to his masculine energy. 

"Genevieve." he says with a sigh, his head lowering, his eyes disappearing under the shadow of his hat brim.

"I know you think my concern to be based in exaggeration but I do feel like that man intends to do you grievous harm." you say, leaning in, looking up at him, he raises his other hand to cover yours, now rested against his chest.

"It's part of the job, you know this now, right?" he tries to comfort you with a dismissal. "Your kind but displaced worry is appreciated but not necessary." he says with a slightly scolding tone. He uses your grip on his hand to turn you to the car, you hesitantly get in with a heavy sigh you know he hears. 

"I told you to put faith in my words, Alfie." you say, your eyes wide, your face serious. The moon hits your eyes, there was no doubt to the truth of your words to be seen in them. He wishes he didn't find your insistent nature on your correctness to be such an endearing trait at this moment. You, armed with nothing but a gut feeling, telling him he was wrong so certainly.

"And I do, Genevieve, I do, yeah?" he says in a hushed voice. "But I can take care of myself and your work is over here. Go home, forget about me as you should until you find a purpose for me again." he gives you a charming smile, under normal circumstances, it would ease your nerves as was the intention of the gesture. "Goodnight, Miss Durand." he says definitively, letting you know the conversation was over. 

Your face frowns and you look at him seriously. "Let Claire know which flowers I should send to your funeral, Mr. Solomons." you say, feeling the lack of a personable nature in the use of your last names from him. You shut the door and turn your face to the front windshield, not looking back to him before your driver pulls away. He stands there, his head shuddering back and forth his eyes blinking quickly at your words. As usual, he finds himself affected by your parting words.   
\-----  
Alfie groans and lets his body sink into the large back seat of his car. His sciatica thankful for the end of the night, but not so much the rest of him. He's looking out the window, the way the streetlights reflect through the glass remind him of how your gemstones would catch the light whenever he'd look away from you, always shining in his peripheral vision. His mind was turning your words over and over in his head, his hand gripped the handle of his cane and he sighs loudly. 

"Ishmael? Take me to the warehouse instead of the house for the night, yeah?" 

"Of course." he responds with a subtle shrug. 

He resituates himself in the seat, brow drawn down tightly, lips pushed in together tightly. He found himself wishing your words hadn't been proven true and trustworthy up to this juncture. He found himself hoping you were wrong, but his own intuition was telling him you weren't.


	7. Making A Fool Of You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song is Homeshake - Making A Fool Of You

You sit perched in the middle of your sunlight flooded painting room. Your red silk robe barely tied around your waist, the only thing protecting your naked skin from the colder air of the room. 

"Still sitting in the sun like a cat I see?" Agatha, your head maid, who had worked in your family's summer home in France since you were a child enters the room. 

"Yes. I find myself to be so disconsolate today, Aggie." you sigh. Your hand pushes the brush into a mixed pile of paint on your palette. 

"And what's the cause of this, dear?" she pats your back as she crosses the room.

"I am inclined to say I do not know but I feel that isn't exactly true." you sigh, feeling entirely too clouded, your eyes wide with annoyance at your worry for your possibly prophetic dreams.

"Another vision then?" she says this like she already knows the answer.

"Oui." you nod and groan, looking out the window dramatically, feeling sorry for yourself for a moment.  
"Was this one you sought out or one that came to you?" she grabs a teacup off the low table in front of your fainting couch. 

You let out a heavy sigh. "A man at the ball I feel means to harm Mr. Solomons and I do not know if he takes my advice as seriously as I feel he should."

"Much like a man." Aggie says with a chuckle, you frown, your eyes following her round form around the room as she stacked teacups up on top of the other as they'd accumulated over the past few days. 

"Yes." you sigh again. "I suppose I was incorrect to expect more from a man like him. Blame that one on my mother." you pout, plopping your brush into a paint covered teacup with murky water in it.  
Aggie nods, holding your chin. "That is your mother's voice you hear in your head on that account dear. Listen to her." she releases your chin with a nod. "No matter the religion, they are still only men, aren't they?" she says with a smile and a shrug. 

"Are we finally back to complaining about men instead of sitting around like we're back in the war? Worrying, staring out the windows all day waiting for something bad to happen?" she says exasperated, nodding to Agatha as she rolls her eyes at your moping.

"I won't apologize for being concerned over clear visions of death surrounding someone that I care about." you say flatly, straightening your back and narrowing your eyes at her.

"Oh, do we CARE about him now? I shall write that down in the diary." she says with a shake of her head. 

"Now Claire, she may be a killer, but she is not a monster." Agatha says in a teasing tone. "She can't help if she was born under a sun and moon full of emotion." she adds factually as she heads out of the room. 

"Aggie empathizes." you say your voice and face full of attitude. "And Besides! Apart from my boys, he's the only man to not be disrespectful to me based on my being a woman in this business since I've moved here." you state, your muscles tensing in frustration.  
"So yes, I do care if he lives or dies." he say loudly, your arms slapping your bare thighs to punctuate your point. "I'd like it if you didn't act like I've got some fucking schoolgirl crush." you cross your arms and pout menacingly. 

"No need to raise your voice, Gen." she says scoldingly, patronizing you as she's rolling her eyes. 

"If you would stop trying to make my emotions not valid they wouldn't be forced to overcompensate and overflow in these sorts of ways!" you shout your arms falling to your sides. "I also can't help how the full moon is fucking with my emotions and giving me these damned dreams that make me feel like a mad woman." you rush out, groaning in annoyance. "I find myself consumed by frustration at this entire situation." you say quietly, the anger starting to be replaced by melancholy. 

"You're consumed by frustration because you've stopped all your vices for it since moving here." Claire state obviously in her frustration at you self-pity, turning to leave the room, giving you an observation she knew you needed to be reminded of. "In the past if you acted like this I'd tell you to go get fucked, but mean it literally." This is the longest she'd seen you go without sex in the over a decade of years she'd known you. You hadn't done much drinking or partying since you'd moved. You stuck to wine in liquors usual place. Business meetings got you out of the house instead of all-nighters in clubs in the city. She knew you were trying to calm your life down a bit from your wilder days in Berlin and Paris but she also knew those parts of you ran so deep that you pretending like they didn't exist was just going to backfire and she didn't want to be around when you burned the estate to the ground in a fit of frustration.

"Oh, fuck off." you groan loudly after her, you hear her laughing as she heads down the hallway, knowing she's right. You slouch and your anger fades quickly as look over to the nude male statue in the corner of the room, opposite the female one, the corner of your mouth pulled back as your eyes look it up and down. "UGH!" you groan loudly as you take a paint-splattered sheet off a chair and throw it over the statue.  
\----------------  
It'd been a week since the ball and you hadn't heard anything. You'd sent Joseph to town for your favorite little pastries so he could give you any news he heard. You heard nothing for days. You assumed this was both a good and bad thing. No news was not bad news, after all. But it was the good news you were after. 

"Genevieve." Claire says already annoyed with your low mood today. "No man is worth this worry. Should I just call him to end this suffering you're putting us all through along with you?" she walks next to you, perched in a random room in the guest wing, sitting on a tufted velvet cushion on a bench that sat beneath a large window, looking out onto the forest and hills.  
You turn your head to her, you move your eyes up slowly and she exhales noisily at your tired face. "Hmmm?" you ask quietly, your face fallen completely. 

"Have you even slept?" Claire asked, moving her hands to your shoulders.

"No. I tried and the dreams became more and more disturbing." your voice is soft and flat. "I don't want to deal with them anymore." you mumble. You do as Claire physically directs, moving you out of the room towards your own. 

"You are going to go take one of your little night vials and you're going to sleep this off." she says slowly, hoisting you around to move quicker. 

"No, Claire." you whine, your feet dragging, your brow furrowed. 

"Then what do you want to do, huh? Do you want to never sleep again? Is that your plan?" she says exasperatedly. It'd been a week of this moody blues funk you'd fell into out of nowhere. "Because it's a shit plan," she says obviously, grabbing your arm and you move reluctantly but willingly. You groan as she shoves you into your room. "You're good to no one without your rest." she says, her voice less harsh. 

"Don't treat me like a child. You don't know what they're like, Claire, I don't want to be stuck in those dreams." you say loudly, your hands falling to your sides heavily, your shoulders slumping. 

"Then stop your crying and fix this problem or I will have Aggie hold you down and give you something to make you sleep." you says, fixing her shirt hastily. 

You glare at her and plop onto the bed. "I'm not crying. Which is honestly surprising at what hour of consciousness I am on at this point." you let out a yawn as you sink into the bed. 

She scolds, pulling the curtains of the canopy down and around your bed. "Like a little bird." Claire tsks, "Put the sheet over your gilded cage and you'll shut up." she says in a more playful and less hateful way as you frown as the last light from the daylit room disappears. You cuddle into your breast and chirp in the comfort or the bed and fall asleep.

\-----------------  
You awake and it's dark. Your eyes snap open. You had exhausted yourself and your sleep had shown you dreams of him but with nothing bad attached. Just him, floating about in dark water alone. You groan and stretch, rolling about the bed. You peak your head out of the curtains before pulling one to the side and tieing it back. 

The full moon's light comes in from your window, the curtains not being touched since you fell asleep. You stand in the middle of the towering window, letting the moonlight seep into your pores, you let out a long sigh and move to an armoire in your room. You open it to find your oils. You change your silk robe for one more substantial. You pile things into your pockets, your robe untied, your maribou tipped, soft-soled shoes carry you, almost mindlessly through the rows of raspberries, your labyrinth to get to your sanctuary in the middle.

"I saw her going into the garden, practically naked with a bottle of rum in her hand, ma'am." the newest maid softly says, reporting to Claire that you'd woken up. 

"I expected as much." Claire says, chewing on her thumbnail, her feet kicked up on the dining room table as she reads by the fire. 

"This isn't concerning at all?" the young maid says, uncertainty in her voice and Claire lets out a loud laugh and pats the girl's arm to comfort her. 

"None of us have anything to fear from Genevieve, dear. She may have habits you've been raised to be frightened by but her heart is always in the right place." she grins, it'd been awhile since you'd hired any new house workers and she'd forgotten how eccentric you appear to others who didn't know you as well. "Speak to her at the next kitchen meeting, you'll find her very warm to you, I'm certain."

"She has been, very much so. I'm afraid I'll be full of stupid questions until I can accustom myself with the home and those who live in it. But may I inquire as to what she's doing out there in the rows?" she says meekly, not wanting to step out of her bounds. 

"Going out to her secret garden to do some of her grandmother's old world medicine to get rid of those dreams she finds herself imprisoned by, I imagine." she says casually, her eye returning back to her book. 

"And this is good?" the girl responds with wide eager eyes. 

"Yes, dear, it means she's finally stopped letting it happen to her and is now getting back her control of the situation." she nods, chewing her bottom lip, relieved you were finally snapping out of it and getting back to being the reasonable, logical, power source she preferred you as.  
You were out in the outskirts of your rows of berries, among the iris's in your spherical space of hanging flowers and willows, your stone bench and small viewing pool the only other pieces taking up the space besides you. You drink a good few big swigs of his rum, connecting yourself to him. 

"You better be worth all this fucking trouble, Solomons." you grumble quietly, sighing with a furrowed brow at how you'd gotten yourself into this mess, now to try to get yourself, and him, out of it. You light your candle and begin what Claire had assumed, but you try to focus specifically on protecting Alfie as you begin to rub the oils into your skin and try to center your mind.


	8. l'amour et la violence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song is Sebastien Tellier - l'amour et la violence.

You sleep through the day and find yourself pulled rather quickly from it as a crack of lightning and the rumble of thunder hit your ears. 

You emerge from your canopy bed, walking to the window, pulling back the curtain to place your hand on the glass, feeling the vibrations from the storm that had rolled in. You recall it being clear when you went to bed, you bit your lip hoping this wasn't a bad omen. 

You see a car coming up the drive, your narrow your brow at it, tilting your head. Your eyes move to squint at the clock by your bed. It was in the middle of the night, why was your car being driven, there wasn't anything to be tested or fixed on it that you were aware of. And why do it in the middle of a storm? You stretch, your face staying inquisitive as you take off your robe and run your fingers over the soft fabrics of your nightgowns, picking one and sliding it over your otherwise naked body. 

"Your man has returned to you from the war, Miss." she announces as she peaks into your dark bedroom.

"What?" you croak, sleep still in your voice.

"Mr. Solomons, dear," she says as if that should be obvious. "He's at the front gate, I sent a car out to get him, his broke down on the way here to you." she says, handing you a hairbrush off your vanity. "Clean up now, let me fetch you a robe. At least you've put some clothes on." she grumbles, shifting around your room. You brush your hair, looking at yourself.

"I dreamed he was in the ocean." you muse, standing in front of the large gilded mirror.

"Yeah? I figured with as much as you seem to be connected to this one, you could feel him so close." she says almost under her breath while her head is in an armoire.

"You're acting like my Ida and her tales of soul mates." you sigh with a roll of your eyes, setting down the brush. "Has my mother also been sending you those heavy-handed letters about trying to marry me off again?" you're awake now, speaking more articulately. 

"You found him when you weren't looking for anyone, dear." she says like she knows something you don't. She's sounding like a stereotypical grandmother with her ominous statements.

"A man is the last thing I need, Aggie." you say with a certainty that makes Agatha sad. "You sound like a book of fairy tales." you dismiss her words with a flick of your wrist.

"Maybe so but I know no one more whimsical than you." she reminds you. "I'm looking forward to meeting this Mr. Solomons. See who has managed to take up favor in your dreams." she says teasing in her voice, she throws you a long robe and you pull it over you, slipping your slippers on, glancing out at the blurred lights of the scurrying cars down the long drive to the main house through the heavy rain pouring down the panes. 

"It does not favor when I have them because of his destructive decisions," you say, running your fingers through your hair, fluffing it and throwing it over one shoulder. "Neither is it favor when they steal my sleep from me and I have never met a man worth losing sleep over."

"And yet you've gone days without this week, haven't you?" she says, herding you out of the room and down the hall. You groan in response and shake your head, these old women and their insistence on men, it was something you'd heard from them as far back as you could remember and their insistence only grew louder the older you became.

You're pulled out of your grumpy thoughts and back to the news you'd received. Alfie was not only alive, he was here and you felt at ease for the first time in the long week past as you see your large front door come into view as you round the corner. You see the car pulling up the long drive, the sound of the rain against the glass drowning out the engine for the most part. A crack of thunder and lightning hit as the car pulls up to the entryway. You frown once again, hoping this wasn't a bad sign. When you make out the shape of his hat through the fogged glass you let out a breath you didn't know you'd been holding. 

"Not dead, I see." Claire chimes rather cheerfully at this news, as you look over your shoulder at her. 

"You didn't invite him did you?" you ask her, still uncertain of why he was at your house unannounced in the middle of the night.

"No." Claire says slowly. "I thought you might have." she says, her voice and face softening, realizing none of you knew why he was here. 

You stand behind the door as you usually do when you know someones coming as you want to know what they say when you're not around. "Hope you like wet dog." she mumbles as she peeks out, as he's walking up the stairs. You shush her and motion with her to get on with it with your hand.

"Good evening, Mr. Solomons." she says smoothly.

"Better now than it has been," his voice is low and raspy. You can feel the exhaustion coming off of him through the door. You sigh at the sound of his voice, if you had to be proven incorrect in your visions you suppose it was alright as long as a life was spared. You hear him move up the steps. "I found myself thinkin', what are the chances of there being two Genevieve Durands when I saw this place. But here's you, right?" he gruffs.

"Genevieve was asleep, I've sent someone after her, she'll be down any moment." she says, giving you your open window. 

"She wouldn't be the type to always be in a bad mood right after they wake up, would she?" he asks, only half joking. Claire actually smiles a bit at his question.

"She is not usually, no. But she'll be relieved to see you so I doubt you have anything to fear." she taunts you just feet away, you stomp your foot and point your finger at her to stop. "I hear her coming down the steps now, just a moment." she says cooly, leaving the door just slightly cracked. You give her a smack to the breast and she smacks you back on the butt as you turn to the door before she heads out to alert the staff of his arrival. 

You tighten your robe and pull your hair all over to one side, wet your lips and slide your fingers over the edge of the large, heavy door. 

You hold your face in a polite and reserved pose. "Mr. Solomons." you say softly, looking him over. He was absolutely soaked. At some point having taken off his hat, his face and hair were also wet, just like the rest of him. Mud covered his shoes and the bottom of his cane and trousers, smudges of dirt, grass and soot all over him. 

"Miss Durand." he says in an exhale as he sees you. Lit by the sconces by the door, the low light lit your feminine features like a dream. The softness of your appearance makes his body, soaked and chilled to the bone feel warmth for a moment as he finds your eyes kinder than he deserves them to be from how he reacted to your words during your last encounter.

When you see him wince, his weight on his cane more prominently than you'd noticed before, your heart twinges. "Get in here, Alfie." you say in a gruff command, cutting the formality of the encounter. You pull back the door and take his arm and bring him in, soaking your robe and gown. He's taken off guard by your attentiveness and decides he's too tired to act like he doesn't appreciate what you're doing for him. You shut the door behind him with an echoing clang. "Fire in the blue room, Aggie!" you shout towards the left side of the hall. "Would you like a bath too?" you ask sweetly, helping him with his incredibly heavy, sopping, long coat you give to one of the men who work in the house.

"Uh. Yes. Please." he mumbles out. His eyes are wide at your hospitality and personal attentiveness as he nods in response. Your hands are already tugging away his suit jacket, also totally soaked. "Bath in the room as well, please, Aggie! Thank you!" you shout, your head facing over your shoulder as place your fingers so delicately around the brim of his hat. 

"Done, dear!" he hears the faint shout of an older woman down the hall. 

"May I take your hat off, Alfie?" he nods again, his blue eyes watching your fingers move quickly, so many of his discomforts being immediately seen and fixed as soon as he stepped through the threshold. "Bring him clothes and wash those," you command to people around you, one of them holds a men's velvet robe out to you and you take it, holding it out for Alfie. "Shoes next." you motion with your fingers on your outstretched hand for him to hand them to you. He does as commanded and you hand them off again. A pair of slippers already somehow sitting at his feet, he slides them on. "I assume you also need someone to retrieve your car and things?" you say matter of factly.

"It's about 4 miles down the road coming from London," he says, getting his bearings a bit and settling into the fast pace you'd set. 

"You heard him Joseph." you look and nod over the man that drove him in. "I'll have your things put in your room, your car put in the garage and seen to as well." you nod and lay the collar of the robe around him down flat across his chest. 

"That's all very kind of you Genevieve." he says quite softly. "What with me showing up unannounced in the middle of the night like some poor pup." you chuckle at his way of apologizing.

"It seems as if you've had a bad week as well." you state in your ominous way.

"I'd say you got no idea, yeah, but you fuckin' might with how you can see the future and all."

"So I was right." you can't help but grin and he grumbles, crossing his arms, shrugging his shoulders to warm up. 

"Yeah." he nods, lips pursed. 

"We'll get the feeling back into your toes and then we'll have some tea and you can tell me the details of my correctness. That alright?" you ask, hands clasped together in front of you.

He nods with a furrowed brow and you take his arm in yours to walk him to his room in the guest wing. "More than alright, that is." he says, looking up and around as you walk. 

"You've got a room in the guest wing, and there's a bell if you need anything. I have breakfast and dinner in the dining room and tea in the drawing room. There is also the study where I take it sometimes and you'll meet me in one after you get yourself back into sorts." you tease him, scrunching your nose at him in hopes he wasn't in too much trouble, it had to be something big for him to actually take you up on your offer, you thought. You bring him to his door. Steam coming from the bathroom, a tea tray on the bench at the bottom of the bed, clothes laid neatly on the bed. 

"You run a very tight ship, Genevieve." he says low, impressed, eyes scanning the room.

"You are too kind for noticing." you smile sweetly at him, sending him into the room with a pat. You turn smoothly with a nod. 

"Just ask anyone you see if you have any questions!" you shout halfway down the hall.   
You pop into the kitchen before heading to the study. "Victor?" you call out, hearing the sounds of your midnight snack being made.

"Already got the order in on your late tea, Miss Genevieve." he says warmly with a nod.

"I assumed as much, thank you. I actually wanted to ask about something else. I'd like to make the house Kosher while Mr. Solomons is with us, please. Would we be able to do breakfast by those guidelines in the morning?"

"I'm sure we have enough to do that, yeah. I'll tell the maids and make up a list and have Claire give it to you before lunch tomorrow. That alright?"

"Wonderful Victor, thank you." you lower your hands in thanks and the round man stomps in his usual way back to start on a menu.   
\--------------------  
His hair is wet and slicked back as he walks slowly, cane in hand to sit on the other end of the couch you were perched on. 

"Took a near-death experience to get you over for tea?" you tease, sitting sideways, your legs crossed under you as you face him.   
You switch your tone to something more comforting as his slow movements tell you plenty without him having to speak. "I know you're tired, I won't keep you long. I'd just like to know what brought you here tonight." you ask politely. 

"I am fuckin' beat." he says with a low laugh at how it was all hitting him at once now that he'd experienced all this comfort piled on him at once. "That's fair. As long as you tell me how on earth it is you have an estate like this in the morning." he says, a nonthreatening smile on his face.

You nod. He lays back with a groan and sips his tea. 

"I did some diggin'. Found out lavender tie, or Cyrus Horne, was, in fact, looking to have me fuckin' murdered." he says, shaking his head. "I stayed at work all week, fucked my back up sleeping on the settee, right?" he grumbles. "I wanna go home, ya know, but I decide against it,right? Couldn't get your voice outta me head with those firm words of warning."

"That's reassuring." you joke, laughing softly into your cup. 

"For you, maybe." he says with playfulness in his voice. "Found out my house had been blown the fuck up this afternoon." he says with a much more mild dislike of this fact than you expected. 

"Blown up?" your eyes go wide. You understood why your dreams had felt so urgent.

"Blew it right the fuck up! Whole thing! Just...fire, everywhere, all of it." he says, growing angry. 

"I'm sorry, Alfie." you say sincerely. 

"As long as it weren't you who burned it to the ground you got no need to apologize to me." he expresses fondly. "Because of you I am here in one piece, although that's an arguable opinion, innit?" he sidetracks himself in a mumble for a moment, reflecting on how bad he feels. "Instead of being blow up and into fuckin' ash, mate." he turns his eyes to yours for the first time in the conversation. 

"You're welcome." you grin smugly.

"Yes, thank you, Genevieve, yeah? You fuckin' puzzle of a person." he expresses his confusion as he tried to get a grasp on you. He was relieved at still being in your good graces after how he'd ignored your words the last time he'd seen you.

You laugh, your whole face moving with it as you consider his words. "Never been called a puzzle before." you say as your laugh fades and a natural silence falls over the room. "I know you're tired and to a much less extent, so am I." you yawn as if on cue. "So let's call it a night and you can thank me for not lecturing you about how I was right by joining me for breakfast in the morning, where I'll answer your questions. That agreeable?" you say with a more reserved face, letting him know he wasn't completely off the hook, but you didn't plan on making his life any harder either. 

"More than." he says, his voice full of relief as you set your cup down on the tray and move to the door way. 

"Goodnight, Alfie." you say sleepily, your face turning to him, still on the seat. 

"It is, now."he says with a nod, looking into the fire. "Goodnight Genevieve." he says with a relaxed expression as you disappear down the hall.


	9. Play With Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Rolling Stones - Play With Fire

You put clothes on for breakfast in your own home for the first time in a long while. He's back in his loose white shirt, you see his braces hanging over his dark trousers, his wide shoulders set squared with his elbows on the table as you see him from behind as you descend the stairs and trot into the dining room. You sit down straight across from him. You greet him through the hands that move around you, handing you a much bigger than usual breakfast.

"Were you able to get some sleep?" you break the silence with, he doesn't look like he's gotten much. 

"That bed is a fuckin' dream, mate." he says with an enthusiastic inflection. 

"Good." you chirp, popping a piece of fruit into your mouth. You tap on your hard-boiled egg as you wonder where to begin. He breaks the thought with the solution to your problem.

"So what have you being lying to me about?" he says with a smirk, working his utensils on his plate, not looking up at you. 

"Not as many things as you're assuming." you let out a chuckle at his lack of subtly. "Mainly from a lack of telling you anything distinctly personal about myself." You sip your tea. "Well then," you say taking a deep breath.   
"I'll start with the biggest lie."

"Please, do." he interjects. You can't help but be entertained by the look on his tired face, the excitement of learning secrets in his eyes. 

"My last name isn't Durand." you say with a sigh."I'm The Lady Genevieve Greene." you say with a hint of reluctance, your face set for whatever reaction came your way. He stops chewing, sets his fork down and calmly pushes his plate away from him. His elbows rest on the table and he looks directly into your eyes like you were the only thing in the world at that moment. 

"A Lady?" he says quietly, his tone was suppressing his interest. His hand over his mouth, picking his beard. You nod and take another drink.

"My father is a British nobleman, my mother, born French." you pause and chew the inside of your cheek.

"That explains that funny little accent." he says with the realization in his voice, his head nodding slowly.

"Excuse you?" you say, a hesitant smile on your face. 

"You have that littl' french twist to ya words." he's rubbing his chin, piecing together everything he's learned about you, you can tell. 

"Always the observant one." you taunt back in a low voice, not knowing if you felt insulted or not. 

"How do you know Tommy Shelby?" he asks, fingers fully dug into his beard as his mind frolics in new information. 

"I went to the same school as his wife, Grace. Our fathers knew each other, we were friends." You decide to continue when he doesn't interrupt you further. "I spent my summers in France, I attended a girls school in the south here where I met Grace and spent the holidays up north with father's family." you stop and consider his expression.

"Well that answer was far less climactic than I imagined it to be, yeah?" he huffs out a laugh. "How'd you get into theivin' if it weren't Tommy who done it?" he narrows his eyes at you. 

"That's a personal question, not something I may or may not have lied about." you frown at him just slightly. He holds up his hands up in surrender for a moment. Since he doesn't press you further, you give the information freely. "I got into small crime for the thrill as a teenager and it built from there." you offer as an answer. "Then I decided to move to London from Paris and try to start my own legitimate business and build my own wealth, apart from my family's so I could support myself and the lifestyle I prefer without their money's involvement in my more frivolous expenses." you stop to take a drink. 

"Ah, distancing yourself from the title in the name of independence, eh? That's why you changed your name then." he says his mouth drawn down into a thoughtful and impressed pose, his hand returning to the tabletop, it was more of a rhetorical statement you believed, so you nod in response. 

"And in confidence, I tell you that if my stone hearted father had his way my last name wouldn't be Greene in fact." you frown, your brow slouching over your eyes in thought. "But if I may be so bold as to say I am my mothers favorite and therefore I'm still entertained to be part of the lot of them." you shrug, taking a drink.

"An old rich nobleman's daughter who won't conform to what daddy says, eh?" he elaborates in his own way to your former statement, his tone amused. "But yer ya mum's favorite for the same reasons you're his least, right?" 

You let out a small chuckle and a grin is already on his lips when you look back up from the table at him. "Tale as old as time." you say in a playfully annoyed way.

"So you have brothers and sisters then?" he asks, you're surprised this is the direction he was choosing to explore. "Nieces, nephews and the like?" he looks up at you, finding your face to have fallen slightly, his brow twitches at the realization he's opened his big mouth far too wide on the subject for you.

"Yes." you answer with a small half smile on your face, not reaching your eyes. 

"The name Genny Greene makes you sound like some girl I used to know from the schoolyard, dunnit?" he blurts out with a teasing tone. You don't know if he senses your sadness at the thought of your family or if he felt he needed the attention pulled back to him momentarily. 

"Genny?" you stick your tongue out in disgust. "You sound like a Shelby, Alfie. Please don't, I have enough Shelby's in my life." your statement becomes littered with laughter as it carries on. "I have nothing against sounding like a schoolyard friend but if you must shorten my name, please take the most direct route and call me Gen, please." you say shaking your head, entertained but a slight scold to your tone.

"I think I prefer The Lady Genny, yeah?" he sounds almost proud of himself, his lips set in a pose of consideration. You narrow your eyes at him, a less friendly smirk on your face. 

"Just because you know my real name now doesn't mean you get to call me by my title in public unless I instruct you to, Mr. Solomons." you use his name to let him know you're serious but your slouched shoulders tell him you aren't angry at his poking. 

"Back to formalities so quickly Gen?" he hums in amusement at you. 'You should know I wouldn't call ya that where others could hear." he grumbles in defense of himself.

"When I said I had nothing against sounding like a schoolyard friend I didn't mean I was inviting you to take the piss out of me and pull my figurative pigtails, Aflie." you switch back to his first name to give him less to pick at you about. You grin but pick at your plate with a fork, not looking at him. He laughs out loud at your response, bringing his own plate back in front of him while his shoulders shake. 

"Well certainly won't now that I know you're a Lady," he smirks at you, mocking in his voice. The title was a formality he found to be so humorous due to your lack of Ladylike behavior in so many situations thus far. "Not now that I know you can send me to the guillotine with a nod of your noble chin, yeah?" he keeps his eyes on your face, you hold back a laugh, your tongue pushed against your teeth as your lips pull back and you chew to keep yourself from giving the reaction he sought. He's relieved when you roll your eyes and direct them at his. 

"Oh, fuck off, Alfie." you chide with an animated shake of your head. He claps his hands together once, his head thrown back for just a moment in a shouted singular note of amusement at your crass words. You're both inclined to laugh as your faces level to meet each other in a pleasant exchange, sharing a glance into the others crinkled eyes before going back to your breakfast.  
\----------------------  
You'd had meetings set up for the upcoming week to try to get your busy to get your mind off the dreams but since that situation remedied itself, you found yourself just plain old busy. Maybe getting your head back into work was what you needed. 

You would have short breakfasts with Mr. Solomons and no dinners that week. He woke up early and went to bed late. You'd seen him come stalking in, heading to his room as you sat on a chair in the study at the end of the hallway, returning your eyes to your reading or drawing until they burned and you went to bed. You knew Alfie was a busy man but with the hours he kept, it made you feel lazy. When you saw him at breakfast, he was always there before you, sometimes finished before you even drew yourself to the table. You had painful small talk only once, as you both spoke to your seconds, finalizing plans for the day. You'd both realized neither wanted small talk, there was no point, so you would greet each other, give very curt briefings of what was keeping you both so busy and part with pleasantries. You were thankful he was a quiet, low maintenance guest. The maids all wide-eyed at having a man in the house, especially the young ones. You couldn't blame them, after all. 

You'd come home later than him for once, a particularly grating day of contract negotiations, meetings for both Abeille and otherwise, your mind needed to lose some of its tension. Aggie tells you he's using your usual cozy space of the guest study for his work and you get out of your stuffy dress and into something soft. Another maid meets you in the hall on the way to the study with a glass of wine. She smiles and says Aggie wanted you to have it as you looked like you needed it. 

You peak into the room, the fire going on the left wall, the desk sitting at the far end of the rectangular space in front of a heavily curtained window. He has his little half glasses on his nose. His hands, still decorated in rings at this late hour, hold papers and he busies himself with a pen to another sheet. 

You move into the doorway. Only his eyes move to look at you at first, then he looks back down to finish his thought onto the paper. "Right," he says a reboot to his system, blinking his eyes and stretching out his arms. "I'll have my mess cleaned up before I head to bed." he says, motioning to the desk, stacks of paper and books on it. 

"No, don't worry about it," you say dismissing his words with a swipe of your hand. "Would you like to just use this as your own personal study while you're here?" you suggest, sitting on the edge of the couch, facing the desk, not that far from where you sat. 

"I wouldn't want to impose."

"You're aware you're already living in my house, correct?" you joke, a tired smile on your face. "You see how many fucking rooms there are, Alfie, don't be ridiculous." you say in a lower register, moving your glass as you speak. He gives you a small amused smile, nods, and hums in agreement with your words. 

"In that case, I'd like four rooms," he says, nodding his head to you. You hold in a laugh poorly at his animated head shaking at his own words. You keep your face straight, your eyes giving you away and try to scold him with a look. "Right. No fun, you are. Just this and the bedroom, yeah?" he says with fake exasperation, you're too tired to care about your reaction and you let yourself laugh at him, looking back into his mischievous, for a moment, gaze. You sigh and run your hand through your hair, resting both your hands on the edge of the couch.

"There's one catch to this room though," you say, your pointed foot tracing the flowers on the carpet. His eyebrows raise at you, a smug look on his face. "This room happens to be the one I like the best for my reading at night." you shrug as in, what could you do about it. "So if you don't mind me planting myself by the fire with my head buried in a book on occasion, the room is yours," you say, your hand motioning to the space.

"Seeing as I've already set my papers here I suppose I'll just have to get over it, won't I?" he says while looking down at the desk, shaking his head even though the way he held his mouth told you he was being cheeky.

"That's a relief." you nod."Because it is my house and I would sit in here regardless of your answer." he head tilts just slightly at your words. " But I am glad you're proving cooperative." your face ran from straight to playfully over the course of your words, him watching you speak all of them. You start to walk towards the doorway, your body moving slowly from overuse, you lean on the doorway with your hip and shoulder. You lead with one of your true intentions on speaking with him this evening. "I periodically throw small parties for my staff. There's a big menu, music and everyone's invited. Just little thank you's from time to time and on holidays and special occasions and the like." you pause your wandering eyes back on him, he looks slightly confused as to what you're getting at.   
"It would seem the large portion of my house staff, who happen to be Jewish have used your arrival here as a means to get me to throw some of these said parties for Shabbat. And even though they already do get the day off, they did bring up a good point about how I should make sure my guest feels entirely welcome, as per my role of Lady of the house and I happen to agree with that." you give a small half shrug in consideration. "So, would you happen to be able to join us for dinner tomorrow night?" you clasp your hands together in front of you, your fingertips fussing with each other.

"Would you like me to?" his brow lowers just momentarily when he asks your opinion. His eyes are much more awake than yours, not moving away from you as you feel he senses a weight to your question.

"Of course I would," you state plainly with an air of ease, showing him there was no loaded double meaning to your words. "Having dinner with me," you hold your hand to your chest. "The woman who practically saved your life if you recall, would be a nice way to start thanking me for that wouldn't it?" you smile, his lips return the gesture. You watch him as those direct words of affirmation reach his ears, even laced with your teasing tone. "I assumed that you wouldn't be working come sundown tomorrow." your face is pleasant and only hinted with sarcasm. "But being as this is the longest we've spoken since your arrival, I didn't know if you'd be able to write me down in the diary on such short notice." your face is friendly to him but still full of attitude.

"I've written you in every time you've asked so far, haven't I?" he answers you with an unexpected, disarmingly charming smile that affects you far too much in your sleepy state.

"Shall I order the Challah then?" you retort back your chin raising in minor defiance to his taunting words, crossing your arms under your chest, your mouth open in an easy-going smile.

"Don't be ridiculous. I'll bring it myself." he says with a definitive nod as you narrow your eyes at him, open smile still on your face.

"So cooperative." you almost coo at him with a biting grin. You start chuckling to yourself as you start the long walk back to your room.


	10. Black Treacle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song accompaniment to the chapter is Black Treacle by Arctic Monkeys.

He was asked to lead the blessings by the staff and carried out the ritual. He was flocked to by everyone but you basically. You sat back, feet up on the end of the dining room table, sipping the wine in your hand. You glance over at him to watch him charm the pants off the maids as you chuckle at the sight unfolding before your eyes. 

You know that he’s aware he’s charming, but you wonder if he’s meaning to make the young dears sigh as he also touches shoulders and swats his hands at the men he’s speaking with. You’ll give him the benefit of the doubt after you see him so smoothly and passively reject one of the girls advances as her hand moves to touch his chest. You laugh into your glass at the pouting face of the poor thing.

You find yourself in the kitchen after dinner, sitting on a countertop while people move around and drink wine and converse. You feel like you’re transported back to some of your fondest childhood memories. Except you sat on a potato sack back then, women didn’t sit on the countertops, you were told. Alfie has a glass of wine in his hand from dinner and so do you. He’s up against one of the pale tiled walls, talking loudly with his hands and rolling out entertaining stories all the kitchen boys are just dying to hear. It takes you back home to France for a moment, you stare into your wine glass, watching it swirl and dance, sticking to the edges of the glass and running down again in a daze, stuck in your memories for a nice warm moment, nights spent in a room not that different from the one you’re currently in come back to you vividly. You could see the smokey room and hear your uncles and cousins shouting at one another. All arguments ended in the oldest always putting the youngest in a headlock and then they’d all start laughing again. Your Uncle pointing his finger at you with a wink as he catches you holding a bottle of rum, laughing loudly he takes it from you as he pulls you into his arms. “Peu lis!” he’d shout at you in an affectionate scold, his eyes sparkling with love and amusement. You can still feel the scratch of his coat under your hands.The boom of his voice as he laughed and cursed while he retold stories of your mischief and it made you feel loved to be spoken of so endearingly. He always knew how to make you feel special when he saw your pre-determined life was starting to steal your smile from your face. No other male figure had done that for you growing up, certainly not your own father.Least of all him. Only those extended family members of your mothers. Your heart started to ache.

“Genevieve?” Alfie’s low voice rips you from your time travel and your eyes flutter up to his, sitting under a raised brow, a slight look of concern on his face for you. “You alright?” he says lightheartedly, he flinches to reach out to touch you but hesitates and decides against it.

You clear your throat and blink and wiggle your face around for a moment before nodding. “Yes, I’m fine.” you take a deep breath. “Deja vu of sorts.” you sigh, “Got lost in my memories there for a moment, didn’t I?” you give him a half smile, your eyes back to being set in reality.

“Well that’s fine from time to time, innit?” he says with a gruff tone that holds no judgement.

You nod, your eyes moving about the room, there were fewer people around than the last time you looked. “Must be the wine.” you say scrunching your nose, making an excuse for your daydream.

“You do look a little flushed, if you don’t mind me saying.” he nods his head to let you know he doesn’t mean anything by it, making sure you didn’t take offense.

“It’s fine, Alfie.” you say with a quiet chuckle, smiling and sliding off the counter. “Come, let’s get some air. Not going to get better sitting in the scullery.” you say, motioning for him to follow you. 

You’ve set your hand on the stone railing across your back patio, overlooking your garden. The moon is high and the sky is black against her. Small lights peppered across the lush ground of your garden give off the only light in the dense flora that carries back and fades as you reach the far end of the garden, your bees, and berries lying beyond that.

“I’ve not had the opportunity to tell you how lovely your home is, Gen.” he says politely, his eyes focused, looking out into the garden.

“Thank you. I’m quite fond of it myself.” you say back in the same tone, as your eyes wander. You sigh contently, moving towards the stairs. Feeling encapsulated in the bubble of your very aesthetically pleasing garden, flowers in clusters all along the right, a trail to a small secluded lily pod off the path, closer to the line of the woods, a small pond. To the left your personal garden of herbs, vegetables, and fruit. Farther back still on the left is the barn looking building which functions both as a garage and also a home to the horses you keep to help on the farm.

You turn your top half back towards him, he’s already looking your way as you meet his eyes with yours. “Would you like a walk through the garden, Alfie? Seeing as you live here and all now I should show you around, shouldn’t I?”

“In the middle of the night?” he asks, his eyes moving up to the moon and back to you.

“Yes. Why not? It’s even more beautiful in the night. Are you frightened of the dark or something?” you give him a playful grin and a small laugh that shakes your shoulders just slightly. He purses his lips and lowers his brow at you.

“Scared of not being able to see a fuckin’ thing and wastin’ my time.” he says with a light-hearted mocking tone.

You walk down the stairs with a shrug to the stone path laid into the ground around the small fountain. “I don’t know…That sounds like something someone who’s afraid of the dark would say.” you snicker childishly and lower your head as you see him shake his.

“You serious?” he says, motioning with his hand to the air to emphasize his question.

“Yes! Well,” you say with a small shrug, "about showing you around, not so much the fear of the dark stuff.“ you call out, your shoulders slumping slightly and your expression is set in an easy going and teasing smile. "There are lights all over. C'mon, let me show you the garden.” you hold out your arms as he gives in and walks down the stairs.

Without the need for coats, you’re both dressed down, him in his white shirt that’s partially untucked over his trousers, braces still hanging by his hips, the wind rustles the excess fabric of his shirt. You’re in a navy sleeveless dress, the sheer fabric worn over a matching slip lets the cool breeze hit your skin and you welcome the sensation.

He mostly listens, although never short on words when asked for an opinion. You’ve shown and explained the sectors of the garden, told him what lands were around you and how far yours went. You, as usual, end up speaking of your flowers and garden like an old lover. He would always get oddly still when you’d start waxing poetic. He even stopped walking as you lilted on lavender at one juncture, watching you as you moved across the path, cooing about the lavender in the fields from your childhood and how currently, it’s oils made you want to sleep when added your bath at night. The moon reflective off his eyes as they moved with you, his mouth set into a pleasant expression. When you met his gaze there would always be a smile waiting beneath his shifting mustache, but you didn’t know if it stayed the whole time you spoke.   
—————————————————  
“WHAT THE FUCK YA DOIN’?” you hear him shout as you unfocus your eyes and turn your torso to the sound of his voice. Your feet are still firmly planted shoulder-width apart, taking aim at the statue on the other side of the pond. He sees you standing in an authoritative pose with a gun in your hands. The dress you wore made you look as if you were displaced in time. The Lady Genevieve Greene of some time long ago, much resembling the lavender of the fields near your family’s home in France you’d told him about the night before as it moved with the gentle morning breeze. The laced edges of the neckline of the dress worn down on your arms with bare shoulders, the sheer violet fabric billowing out before being edged again with tiny white ribbon. The dress was cut in an empire waist, cinching just below the swell of your chest, covering the slip of matching color you wore underneath. The dress swung about your ankles, moving as your hips did, reminding him of a Bellflower. A white apron with big pockets was tied around your waist, a ribbon was loosely holding back your thick dark hair in a bow at the base of your neck.

“Target practice.” you say obviously, your fingers wrapped around the pistol in your hands.

“You could fuckin’ warn a man, ya know!” he says, shaking his cane in your direction as he trots down the small downward slope that conceals the pond from your garden.

“I’m used to living alone. I’ll be more considerate next time.” you say with an apologetic tone, turning back to the statue.

“Why are you shootin’ at a statue anyway?” his tone is still slightly annoyed and his voice higher pitched in his animated words and hand movements.

“Because I fucking hate it.” you state matter-of-factly. He laughs at your response and squints his eyes to look at it from a few feet behind you. "Also because I need the practice.“ you let out a sigh and place the gun back into the pocket of your apron. "I’ve been using knives so much recently that I don’t want to get rusty.” you explain turning to him, wringing your hands.

“Why do you have this statue if you hate it so much?” he says, he continues around the pond since you’ve stopped shooting.

“Don’t bother with it Alfie,” you say in a groan, following behind him on the dirt path surrounded by dark green grass on either side. One side rolling up and into a tree line, the other side sloping down and into the water. You begrudgingly start to explain. “I had a statue commissioned in Paris before I moved here and I paid for it and it was shipped without me seeing it and I just,” you let out another sigh and put your hands on your hips as you stop behind him, both looking up that the statue. “It makes me look like a fucking horse or something, I dunno.” you start to mumble, your face frowning.

“That’s supposed to be you?” he asks, his finger pointing at the statue.  
You move to stand next to the statue and pose in it’s likeness, one hand on your hip, the other up and bent behind your head. “You don’t see the resemblance?” you ask while making a contorted face and pushing the front of your nose up with the hand that had been on your hip. You roll your eyes and purse your lips in an exaggerated way to show your distaste for it. He lets out a low laugh and shakes his head at you.

“No, I ‘spose not. I mean I only know what you’re face looks like, right? So I can’t very well speak as to the accuracy of the rest of it now, can I? ” he smirks and shrugs and doesn’t look at you, his eyes remain mischievious and focused on the nude statue.

“Alfie.” you scold in a laugh and reach out the playfully smack his arm but he leans out the way easily as you’re pawing very slowly at him. “You cheeky boy,” you say with a very amused scoff, it coming out higher pitched that you intended. You cross your arms over your chest, shaking your finger at him. “Don’t you worry yourself with those resemblances,” you say while walking past him. He can’t help but let out another small chuckle before turning to follow you, being relieved he had found that you could, in fact, take a joke at your own expense. “What are your plans for the rest of your morning since it seems my practice roused you early?” you ask, not looking back at him, you could hear him walking behind you, the pattern of his steps and barely noticing his cane hitting the ground. Did he even need that thing?

“Well, since you decided to go shoot yourself so early in the day I hadn’t had time to consider yet.” he says, his voice back to it’s even and gruff sound.

You let a huff of a laugh out at his choice of words. “You have a spare moment to give me now?” you ask, now stopping and waiting for him as you stand in the fork in the path.

“What d'ya need me for, eh?” he asks with no hesitation.

“I don’t require anything but your company,” you say your shoulder slightly rising with a polite smile. “I was wondering if you’d like to take that tour now. Know what’s in the house, see where what I sell you comes from.” you state, your hands clasped together at the end of your fully extended arms.

“Well I did start my day off earlier than intended, dinnit I?” he asks rhetorically. “And I would like to meet these bees of yours. What with the way you talk about 'em an all.”

“House first. Then breakfast and to the Apiary before swinging back around and I’ll let you go.” you suggest, turning to move towards the house he motions with his hand for you to continue on your way as he falls in behind you.

You take him into the house through a less obvious backdoor into the cellar and up and into the kitchen leading into the main hall. You skip the guest wing and the dining room as he’s already familiar. The ballroom at the side of the house opposite the dining room, separated by a large entryway and lobby into the house, the embossed with white and gold designs on the ceiling starting to twinkle in the early morning light that came in through the large window above the front door and the window in the top of the domed ceiling over the entryway. You show him your wing. You elect not to show him your bedrooms, didn’t want him getting too friendly too soon or being given the impression that was what this was about. You lead him through your study that serves as an office when needed. You lead him up the metal spiral staircase tucked away behind a large bookshelf that leads to the second floor of your wing. You do a casual peek at your leisure room, some dance, some singing, and music when the mood struck you.

You come to your studio. You’re excited and he can read it in your body language, but not much on your face. But as you finally turn to open the door, exposing the large space, large windows with heavy velvet curtains pulled back to let the light in. A circular raised platform in the middle where your stool and an easel, currently holding your work in progress sit. Workbenches across the wall, a desk, fainting couch and room divider placed around the other side of the room. The wooden floor was covered with various colored ornate rugs, with furniture upholstered in various jewel tones. Canvas and tarps propped up against walls, in the far corners of the room, a male and female set of statues stand in recessed sections of the wall.

You stand by the door as he walks into the room, his eyes wide as he studies the currently mostly dark background covered canvas in the room, it was large and called all the attention to itself.

“You painted these?” he asks, his chin pushing into his neck, eyebrows furrowed with curiosity as his hand slices through the air, directing your attention to contents of the room.

“One of my hobbies.” you nod proudly.

“Why steal 'em at all if you can just paint them yourself?’ he asks in an amused tone, shrugging his shoulders in a huff.

"Not as much fun to have an imitation of the real thing is it?” you answer his seemingly rhetorical question as he comes back to you, not wanting to pry too much into a room of such personal significance to you. He didn’t want to show his greed for information about you. He lived in the house now so surely he could find the time to have a look at what was covered from sight in this room.

“S'pose you’re right on that, yeah?” he nods with an agreeable face as his hand comes out to show you to lead once again.

Your main discussion over breakfast was your personal garden. Telling him about what was used from it in the meal and what you would be having coming up with the seasons changing. He finds himself not holding his tension in his shoulders for the first time all week. Your voice is soft when you’re at home he finds. It’s been speaking about things you loved in a sweet tone that had lulled him the entire morning.

Now he’s listening to you greet your hives, you spill compliments to them in French, the way you have such a calmness to your actions in the midst of the seeming chaos of movement and noise make a heavy sigh build in his chest. You were a bit hypnotizing, he’d thought when he would watch the way your eyes would go intensely focused and almost command things from their target. They were currently showing the fast way you took in information from sight alone. You’re speaking softly to the man in the full netted suit. Your face lights up as you point to another hat and shuffle your way excitedly towards him.

“Don’t be shy, Solomons, come introduce yourself.” you grin, placing a hat and net on his head. He adjusts it as he follows you towards the source of the buzzing down the path between the numerous short stacks of hives.

“Telly has found a virgin queen and I can’t have you miss this.” He laughs silently behind you at your enthusiasm as your hand is firmly wrapped around his, tugging him along despite his lack of defiance.

“Virgin queen? Didn’t know bees cared about such things.” he kids. You snort in response.

“Means she’s new.” he sees your shoulders moving as you quietly chuckle at him. “She’s piping and I want you to see what I meant when I said they sing.”

“I remember you saying that, yeah.” he nods, eyes wide and now very aware of the buzzing around the opened hive you were approaching.  
You keep hold of his hand even though you’ve stopped. You don’t even notice in your excitement as it feels natural to do such a thing.

He gives a polite nod of acknowledgment to Telly. “There’s the little lady.” you coo, touching the bees so delicately with one bare finger, moving them just slightly. He’d never seen someone do such a thing. Who sticks their fingers into a mass of bees? Especially in the fearless, tender way you did. The difference in the queen and the others was so slight that he wouldn’t have noticed if he’d been given hours to look at the vibrating and constantly shifting mass of tiny bodies. He sees first hand now that you really do know what you’re talking about with the buzzy buggers. “Look at her go, now she’s singing.” He can hear the sound. But the pride on your face is what he’s really interested in. He hears the intervals of melodic buzzing. Piiiiiiiip - pip-pip-pip. “Her little wings rub together to make the sound. Much like a cricket,” you explain softly, looking up at him for a moment while you speak. “Can you hear her?” you ask, still doe-eyed at the bee.

“She’s got a lovely voice, Genevieve.” he grins as you meet him with a pure, closed mouth smile.

You stand and clasp your hands together, sighing. “I’ll get out of your hair, Tel. I know you’ll be as busy as they are with new queens.” you eyebrows raise and the man nods back at you with a kind expression. “Don’t want to scare off Mr. Solomons now do we?” you smirk as you turn to walk out of the fenced area. Once you’re at the gate, you take his hat off of him, hanging it on the fence post. “If you’re around them enough and they get used to you, you won’t have to wear the hat anymore.” you explain, turning back to walk down the path to the house.

“Genny and her bees.” he hums in amusement. “I’m surprised you allow other queens to share your space.” he jokes.

“Well I’m a very gracious ruler, aren’t I?” you laugh with a swivel of your chin in jest.

“Very gracious indeed, Genny bee.” he says with a nod and a mischievous grin. You felt like you’d be hearing that nickname again from him whether you acknowledged it or not. You let him have his fun.   
—————  
You are in your study, looking over blueprints for a proposed job. It was late but you weren’t going to bed. If you tried you would lie in bed and be thinking about doing this so it was useless. The house has been quiet for some time now. You’re in the middle of solving the maze of hallways when you hear a noise shift outside your door and in your focused state you instinctively reach for your gun under your desk and pull it and hold it to the door before you look up to see who is on the other end of your aim. You hear a shuffling noise followed by a clearing of a throat as he rounds the doorframe and into view.

The look he gives you is not immediately of worry as you’re used to and the almost offended but still amused look on his face makes you roll your eyes before lowering your gun and laying it on the far side away from him on your desk.

“Lovely to see you as well Genevieve, yeah?” he says in a mocking tone as he holds out his arms and walks towards your desk.

You tilt your head but hold out your hand for him to not come closer and he gives you a puzzled expression. “I was focused and forgot you lived here for a moment. The maids know not to bother me in here.” you shrug implying he already knew the rest of how that story played out.

“Right.” he says, nodding, chin down, looking at your hand, still unsure of the gestures motive.

“Before you get any closer to this desk I’m going to need a very honest answer to a very serious question.” your face loses the amusement at him it held just moments before, now reserved.

“Then a very honest answer you will receive.” he nods, moving his hand for you to continue, welcoming the question.

“Are we at a place in our professional and personal relationship where I can allow you to see or know things that are not involved in your personal business affairs and not have to worry about you selling or giving, by any other means, my information to anyone, ever?” you rest your hands back on top of each other, your forearms on your desk.

He nods with a thoughtful face at you, impressed by the many situations your words covered. “You are aware there is a man that is out to kill me, correct?” you push your chin out in reaction to the strange answer.

“Yes, I know that.” you narrow your eyes and shake your head in a desire of a more thorough elaboration.

“And you’re still letting me stay here in your home, innit ya?” he says, motioning towards the chair in front of your desk. You frown and motion back for him to sit.

“Yeah, I leveled up my security, so? What are you on about?” you command of him, your shoulders slumping.

“I’m a guest in your house, having been personally invited by you, right?” he points his finger at you as his words pass to emphasize it’s importance to you specifically. “With this invitation, you knew you were possibly putting yourself in harm’s way on my behalf. I don’t know what awful things you’ve heard others say of me and the way I handle my business, but I would like to assure you that I can recognize a debt when I see one and it seems that I am now the one in debt to you, aren’t I?” his hands clasped together as he finished speaking, resting on his stomach as he leans back in the plush chair.

Your lips pout as you look away from him to your desk in thought. He was right, it had not occurred to you that he would think about the situation in this way but you were oddly relieved at his mature admission. 

“So just so ya know…ya know.” he nods animatedly at you. “With me being here, yeah? You don’t have to worry about what I see in this house. Ya just don’t, Genevieve. I may be a fuckin’ piece of work but I’m not gonna fuck ya over, not when you’ve done nothin’ but right by me since I met ya, yeah?”

You watch him as he speaks. You’re surprised that you feel like he’s telling the truth. Your previous life experience wants you to reject the notion. “And for my own piece of mind,” he says, his hands touching his chest, his tone lighter, “Ya don’t have any plans on servin’ me up with an apple in me mouth, d'ya?” his eyes blink slowly at you.

“I have no current plans for that, no.” you can’t help but grin in response.

“Then I’ll keep behavin’ myself and you keep not killin’ me in my sleep and we’ll be good as gold, mate.” he gives you a flash of a charming smile with a gruff chuckle, full of amusement.

“Then that’s the plan.” you meet his smile with one of yours you found disarming in hopes to incite the same feeling in him as he was trying to draw from you with his. “Your cooperation as always is very much appreciated and does not go unnoticed.” you say with a warm smile and polite nod of punctuation.

“You’re very kind, Genevieve, yeah?” he leans forward with his elbows on his knees, “You know that? Not something I expected from ya with the stories I 'eard about ya.” his grin returns in full but his eyes are less sentimental.

“Well luckily for me, you just agreed to not tell anyone my secrets so that will just have to stay between you and I, won’t it?” you look back down and speak with raised brows and a smug expression, moving your hands across the papers on your desk to smooth them.

His gaze drops after you share a look of agreement. His head tilting and his shoulders relaxed. He clears his throat to speak, “Now it’s my back that ’s got me up at this late hour.” He shifts his weight, now on one arm, resting on the chair. “May I ask what’s got you awake or have I gone and interrupted you?” he asks politely.

“No, your intrusion is welcome, Alfie.” You reply, your lips pursed and as you went ahead and stacked the papers neatly to look over later. “It’s a job I’m thinking about taking. Trying to get a good study of it before I accept or decline. Nothing that interesting to be honest.” you half smile, stretching in your large chair, rolling your neck. “I don’t need to chance my eyes staying foggy from reading in the low light for this long anyway.” you yawn, rubbing your eyes. “Might need to get glasses like yours if I keep up these late hours.”

“Oh, you takin’ a piss outta my glasses now?” his lip shoots up in a reactionary grin.

“Never.” you laugh, shaking your head. “It allows you to wear glasses that also function as jewelry,” you state in an obvious but enthusiastic way. “I wouldn’t know what hell to give you about them. Seeing as I’m fond of them myself.” you shrug and roll up the papers as you speak, your mood back to friendly with ease. “Who has picked on you for your glasses, Alfie?” you say, lowering your head to tease him just slightly. “You’re defensive of them. Do I need to go give some rude men a talking to?” you offer with a grin, shutting the papers inside your desk.

“More like rude women if I’m being honest, mate.” he says, shaking his head with a small laugh, his hand moving out in the presentation of the joking statement.

“Girls been making fun of your glasses?” you say in a genuinely surprised, higher pitched voice, your elbows are on your desk, your hand to your chest in tandem with your statement.

He nods with his mouth open, brow furrowed as if he’s trying to think of where to begin with his thoughts.

“How very rude,” you say with a nod of your head to interrupt his thoughts. “Making fun of a man’s glasses.” you tsk, shaking your head dramatically, seeing his grin slowly build as you carried on your animated task of cheering him up from the idea. “All terrible I’m sure. Self-loathing, projecting, feral mannered tarts.” you continue your insults until you begin to laugh at your over the top delivery.

“Not nothin’ like you, are they Gen?” his voice is lower than you anticipated but the praise immediately goes to your head and projects itself onto your face loudly.

“I’ve yet to meet a woman that is.” you flash a beaming, pride-filled smile at the statement. A laugh that sounds ill-intentioned bubbles out through your shapely lips.


	11. These Stones Will Shout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song is These Stones Will Shout by The Raconteurs.

You had thankfully taken up camp at the far end of the dining room table before dinner to organize some of your loose sketches. You were having Aggie take them back to your studio when he walks in the room. Your eyes that had been on her as she left in the direction he was entering, shift to him immediately and follow him, wide at the sight, as he sits at his usual seat at the far end of the table. You blink slowly at him, taking in this boyishly handsome man that sat down to have dinner with you.

“Alfie?” you call out with enthusiasm, you back straightening as he puts his glasses on. “What did you do?” you inquire, shaking your head, your brows high, eyes not hiding their underlying enthusiasm at the sight of him.

“What? It’s almost summer, yeah? I like to go into the season with a good cut and shave.” he doesn’t pay you much mind as he looks at the papers his second is laying on the corner of the table before he leaves for the day.

Claire walks in to find you, lip bitten in thought, staring at him and wondering how he’d hidden lips so full. His face does the same mannerisms as it always has, but your eyes see every tiny nuance now. Every fold around his mouth, wrinkle in the corner of his eye. He’d bared his face and therefore to a small extent his thoughts with this clean-shaven face.

(In French) “Did you know about this?” you ask, snapping your stare back to the table.

“I did not.” she says with amusement in her voice.

“Look at him,” you say, holding your hands in front of your face as your arms rest on the tabletop. “To have the beautiful young man underneath the handsome older one.” you roll your eyes, sitting back in your chair in contemplation of him. You never look at him directly, speaking to Claire over a sheet of jotted thoughts you’d had while drawing today as if it held any real importance. “How is an unsexed woman supposed to go without wanting to smash a face so pretty to pieces with her pelvis?” you shake your head and shake the piece of paper as if you’re angry at it. You look over to him, he’s watching you with interest in his eyes, you shrug and make a face to signify you weren’t mad over anything important.

“Tell us how you really feel.” Claire says sarcastically, managing to even chew smugly. You sit and look at his reflection in the mirror on the wall, avoid him directly.

“You remember that young lord that lived north of Paris?” you ask, chewing.

“The one with the zoo?” you say, looking back over to Claire who nods. “He reminds me of him in this form.” you shake your fork in her direction.

“How could I forget? The noises you two made rivaled that of the ones in the cages.” she rolls her eyes again, this time accompanied by her head as she rolled her head about her shoulders, stretching out the tension building there.

“A face like that makes me miss the days when I would take those angel face’s and be the woman who made them men.” you sigh and shrug remembering fondly of your escapades for a fleeting moment. You see Claire subtly looking at Alfie her lips pursed together, she overlooks your inappropriate dinner table conversation as she’s become to expect it.

“I would have never guessed that lay beneath all that hair. You don’t even notice the spots with a set of lips like that do you?” she looks over at you and you raise your eyebrows in agreement, nodding your head. You smile at her speaking loosely instead of professionally. “The irony is not lost on me that a man like him would have such an angelic face as it helps to deceive you from the devil within.” she states matter of factly. You roll your eyes and now you try to ignore her words, trying to give no power to whatever negativity she was projecting outwardly tonight.

“I think my brother Michael had the same spots when he was little. Grandmother gave him one of her tonics and it cleared up…” you chew slowly, your brow furrowed in thought. “I wonder if it’s in any of her old books.” you trail off, looking in the direction of your bedroom.

“Creating potions to cure what ails him now too? What don’t you offer to rub it in for him with your tits if you’re going to all that trouble. A waste of your time and energy, that is.” she almost grinds out between her tight lips, holding a visible tension there. Her hand going up into the air but the rest of her body stayed stationary as rolled her eyes at how you were going out of your way to help this man.

You stop chewing and your brow drops as you wait for Claire to look over at you. “Are you quite finished?” you ask, you expression pulling rank on her. She lets out a heavy sigh and grabs a newspaper. “What has your knickers in a knot? Because my kindness isn’t where you should be directing your anger.” you warn her, cutting the meat on your plate aggressively in your annoyance.

“Men.” she answers, spitting out the word, tossing the paper onto the table. “Excuse me.” she says sarcastically, leaving her chair pushed out from the table and disappearing down the hall.

“Anything I should know about?” he asks, chewing slowly, face straight.

“Non.” you say with a sigh. “She’s apparently had a bad day is all.” you shrug and go back to your food.   
————————-  
It’s late, you’re in your usual home uniform of a nightgown and robe and slippers, the upgrade from naked you’d usually be wearing this time of year. You’ve got your tea, the fire gently undulating, the only source of light in the room except for the lamp you’ve placed in the floor under the curtains by the window behind the desk. You’re working on capturing the heavy black velvet curtains and how the light illuminates them from beneath. You hear Aggie’s entirely too adoring voice greet Alfie as he comes in. You hear him making his way down the hall. He nods as he sees you, half turned on the sofa to face him.

“‘Ello, Gen.” he calls out to you with a croak, continuing onto his room.

“Goodnight, Alfie.” you say in a humorous exhale at his endearing casual tone and greeting as it seemed he was in fact leaving.

“Nah, not yet. I’ll be in there to join ya in a minute, yeah?” you hear him explain as his hand moves as he speaks, despite his back being towards you. You think he mumbles something about work before he disappears into his room.

You work until his appearance interrupts the light behind the desk, his arms dumping books on the desk. “Am I interrupting your artistic process?” he says only half serious, taking his braces off his shoulders.

“Yes but I won’t hold it against you.” you set the bound papers onto the seat cushion, moving to place the lamp back on the desk. “Just studying light.” you say, dismissing it and giving him a polite smile as you move back to your previous spot on the couch.

“Ya any good or do you just enjoy the hobby?” he says, rearranging the books on the surface they rest on.

You let out a huff of a laugh. “Being good at art is purely personal opinion.” you say, picking up the realism you’d been trying to create in charcoal.

He settles with a grunt in response to your answer accompanied by a solid nod, his lips pouted in agreement. His elbows stick out as he lands with a croak of agitation from the chair. You stand next to him, he raises his chin towards you, leaning in as you do, offering what you’d worked on tonight for his inspection on the desk.

“Give it to me straight, Solomons.” you chuckle, standing and looming over the drawing.

He picks it up and holds it, studying it in the light of the lamp that had rested on the floor.

“Anything you can’t do Genevieve?” he asks quietly, thoughtfully, his eyes focused and moving across the work. You bite your lip and look up in consideration.

“I can’t whistle.” you offer up with a shrug. His eyes shut as he shakes his head with a huff of a laugh and raises them back up to your amused face.

“You can’t whistle?” he asks surprised, you shake your head. “Well, go on, lemme see how bad it is.” you furrow your brow and purse your lips playfully at him.

When he doesn’t break his expression, you sigh but give an amused smile and oblige him. You wet your lips and try. You pucker up, doing nothing much but blowing out air and sputtering. You take another breath, looking down your nose at his held back laughter and blow out raspberries, especially as he shrugs and makes a disappointed expression causing you to laugh as you continue trying and it only gets worse. You eventually can’t hold your mouth in the correct form and start laughing at yourself. Your eyes squeeze shut and your hand is placed on your chest as your shoulders slump and you angle yourself away from him so you aren’t laughing directly into his face.

He’s relieved when you close your eyes because then he can let loose the smile that your adorably endearing behavior is causing. Who else got to see this side of you, he wondered.

“I’m shit at it Alfie.” you let out a small snort and take an exaggerated deep breath. He’s back to his high brows and sucked in lips to keep from teasing you. “Ya feel like a big man? Making a woman look so foolish?” you say with a laugh.

“Now, now, luv, come 'ere,” he shakes his head with a sincere grin at your antics and takes your hands into his, making you look at him. “You gotta put your tongue over your teeth,” he demonstrates, “Like 'is.” you try to mimic him and it’s hard because your lips keep threatening to smile. You try again and after much more encouraging expressions from him you manage to squeak out a weak but audible whistle. In your expectancy to not whistle, you jerk your hands out of his, balling into fists and shooting towards your chest in surprise. Your face gives away your shock at your own actions.

“Lookit you go!” he laughs, his shoulders still shaking as he leans back into the chair.

“Didn’t expect to ever remedy that.” you say with a head tilt and grin, your face thoughtful.

“Well ya dinnit 'ave me teachin’ ya now did ya?” he chuckles, handing you your drawing back. “Certainly don’t need no one teachin’ ya anyfing about drawin’, do ya?” he says with a much less flashy smile, the sparkle of a compliment in his eyes.

“Thank you on both accounts, Alfie.” you rest your hand on his shoulder, rubbing it slightly in a thankful gesture that you follow through with without even thinking about it. “You mind if I stay in here with you?” you ask, your voice rising in pitch slightly as you head back to the couch. “I have other sketches to work on.” you add as you stand by the spot of your previous perch.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve got contracts to evaluate, sketch away, dear, by all means.” he says, not looking up at you but motioning for you to continue and sit.

You’re settled back in, your back against the arm of the couch as you hold your paper in your lap, knees bent and facing the desk again. You hear the sharp satisfying drag of the paper flipping to a new page. You look over him for a moment, considering his warm demeanor and angel face. You think of how much you’ll miss this boyish charm that was born from a boyish face when it inevitably became covered with hair again. You bite your lip and grin, starting with a few shaping strokes on the page, beginning to draw him as he was. You didn’t want to forget it after he was gone.   
—————————————————-  
You’re on your way back from the kitchen, the light in the hallway catches your attention, you take another bite of the bread and jam in your hand that had called you to the kitchen at this late hour. You don’t immediately assume he’s in the room, as it was late or rather early for even you to be up wandering around. You appear in the doorway, with no announcement of your presence, muscle memory ready to switch off a lamp and go back to bed. But he’s at the desk in the study in his pajamas, hair a mess, glasses on his nose as his fingers poke away at a typewriter.

“Working on Shabbat?” you say with a tsk, entering the room just slightly.

His eyes roll up to you, his demeanor stiffens. “Ain’t work.” he grumbles, finishing his thought and then turning his attention to you.

“So you’re just writing? For the pure enjoyment of it?” you ask, coming closer now, arms across your chest, feeling like you’d intruded but he wasn’t telling you to leave so you implore into what he’s doing. “I hadn’t the faintest idea you were also an artist.”

“Nah, no artist.” he shakes his head, not meeting your eyes. “Merely a compulsory hobby.” he says with a groan.

“If you create, you are an artist, Alfie. Plain and simple.” you state, taking another bite of bread. “Have you been writing long?” you inquire with a sweet inflection to your words.

He sighs and you feel the weight of it’s meaning. He’s hesitating. He looks up at you, his brow still heavy over his eyes, but they were fixed on yours as you blink slowly, his eyes losing his tension as you don’t interrupt his thoughts and stay silent. His eyes flutter ever so slightly before he decides to speak. “I woke up from a dream and came in ‘ere so not long. Helps to empty the thoughts out like ‘is.” he says, his shoulders slumped, back leaning in the chair, his hand rubs his sleep fussed hair.

“Inspiration visit you in your dreams?” you ask warmly. You stand next to the desk, not coming to his side so you can’t see what he’s working on out of respect for his privacy.

“Yes but not in a way that grants that lovely tone you’re using.” he says, looking away and to the paper he’d been projecting onto.

“Ah, those fits of inspiration.” you say with wide eyes and a reluctant smile that tells him you’ve spent many sleepless nights much the same way he had. Just from different sorts of demons and paint instead of words. “I did however mean with my question as to how long you’d been writing, to be directed at its entire duration, not just this nights.” you say with a smile that just enough teasing to make him give you a small pleasant smile as you directed yours at him.

“Ah.” he says obviously with a nod. Smile fading fast. “Well,” he starts, that hesitancy gripping at his words. Part of him wanted to share and part of him wanted to hide and keep the words in his head and not let them leave through his mouth. But the kind and never judgemental mind behind your eyes was showing through, asking him politely to tell the truth. “They’ve been going on for a little while now."he says, the words being drawn out slightly as he beat back that voice in his head telling him to not be vulnerable, hushing its insistence that it equated to weakness. But you were proof that wasn’t true. Your truths had made him want to follow your lead and try to find it within himself to not hate the bits of him that had grown from the war. He wasn’t in denial of them, used them to his advantage for years now, but the hardness it had instilled at his core was something he wasn’t sure was any longer reachable. But something about you made him want to try.

"Now? Did these floods of creativity start recently?” you ask, head tilted to its side, you have no ulterior motive other than curiosity and care as you speak to him.

“No, they started after I came back from the war.” he says in a more clear voice, you’re pleasantly surprised at the shift in his voice.

“Oh,” a smile on your face that to his surprise isn’t pitying. “Sounds much like my brother.” you say with a terribly sad huff of a laugh, not masking anything to his observant eyes.

“He in the war as well? Never heard you speak of 'im.” you can tell he’s interested with his choice of words.

“Yes, he was. He was different afterward as well. But everyone was in some way or another.” you give a distant gaze and a shrug. “Especially after you men came home. Seems the ones who kept the war where it died fared better than the ones that brought it home with them in their heads.” your eyes are far away in your memories, he’s guessing.

“I’ve witnessed much the same.” he nods, narrowed eyes, holding only curiosity watching over you as the vulnerability he had felt from sharing something personal is met with yours.

You give a sharp glance away from him, swallowing and taking a deep breath before the emotion took your face over. “I have learned that expressing oneself in imaginative ways, such as with art, is a healthier way for us to work through things on a deeper level than we can with less introspective outlets.” you add, your face looking more rosy as you rubbed your nose. “Like with your writing. My painting. George’s theatre.” you say, rubbing your hands on your hands on your knees before stretching your back.

“Theatre?” he says, sides of his mouth pulled down in a surprised expression of interest.

“Yeah.” you say with a smile that’s genuine again. “After he healed from his injuries, he found he had a taste for it and created a stage name and threw himself into that world for a bit.” you look back over to meet his eyes, eyes no longer holding the threat of tears.

“Was he any good?” he asks with a cheeky grin. You grin and give him a soft laugh, shaking your head and moving away from the desk.

“Didn’t matter if he was any good at it. He loved it.” you give a half smile and shrug, walking to the door, your hand touching the pieces of furniture as it passed them.

“What was his stage name?” he asks, calling out in a warm voice as you neared the door.

“I can’t tell you that.” you say as your shoulders shake with a laugh, turning to face him.

“Why not?” he says with a playful offense.

“Because it’s a secret.” you say obviously, your head and voice dropping low. “Shouldn’t have even told you of it at all.” you say with an uncomfortable smile, looking away with a silent 'oops’ escaping your mouth, quickly followed by another small huff and a tired smile. “Hope you’re good at keeping others secrets as well.” you laugh at yourself, sighing and putting your hands on your hips.

“I can keep secrets given the right reasons.” he nods and shrugs in his defense.

“The reasoning of, because I said so.” you say with an attitude-filled nod of your head.

“Eh.” he says with a shrug, indicating this wasn’t a good enough reason.

“Because I said so and I will also kill you if do. That work well enough?” you ask with a raised eyebrow.

“Better.” he says with a chuckle and a laugh, pushing his glasses back up his nose.“Self-preservation is a good angle to approach when threatening someone to keep secrets.” he nods, approving of your methods.

“Speaking to me as if I’m not a peer of yours in such skills.” you say with a singular loud scoff, shaking your head, rolling your eyes and turning from him with your brand of playful dramatics. “Save your lessons for someone who needs it, professor.” you say in a humorously exasperated fashion that makes him laugh as you parade out the room. “I’m going to bed, Mr. Solomons.” you state in the same tone.

“Goodnight my most apt pupil.” he calls after you, hands back to his papers on his desk.

“Shove it up your arse.” you say in a snort of a laugher that he quickly imitates. Your sighs that follow after your laughter whisper their way to his ears from the long echoing halls, making him stare out the doorway even after you’ve gone, his mind no more calm than it had been when he’d been lost in it before you entered the room and now his thoughts to settle in for the night.


	12. Fireside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song is Fireside by Arctic Monkeys.

You dream of the sea again. This time he isn't in it. You panic because it feels like he should be. You feel like you're reaching as far as you can to search for him and as the waves pick up, a storm on the horizon moves in, killing the blue sky and turning it purple. When the lightning spreads out across the sky with a crack you wake up. These are dreams similar to the ones you had when he had his house blown up last time. So this time you know something has to be wrong. You have Claire check all your security, again. She knows there's no point in fighting you on it, she does as you command. You're met with an early morning light greeting you as you walk to the window. You sigh heavily and know you won't stay sane if you don't do something. So as you had from time to time on matters like these, you call Polly. You explain the dreams and the changes, she tells you all you need to hear in her omniscient way.

"If the night chooses to whisper something to you, dear, never ignore it. It doesn't speak to everyone and it never speaks without purpose." she pauses, sensing your hesitancy. "Do you care if the man lives or dies?" she asks plainly. 

"Yes." you say without hesitation or added motive.

"Then go to him." he says sternly.

You have Joseph fetch the car and you make yourself decent. You put a pistol into your deep coat pocket and wait anxiously as your car carries you to the warehouse. You stand in the center of two massive brick buildings, hidden from the street. You gnaw at your lip and press your back against a blank spot of wall. You felt that sickening feeling in your gut. You shut your eyes and breathe, trying to take in everything around you for a moment. You know he's supposed to be here but you don't know if he is. This is where your mind told you to go and so you followed, continuing acting on Polly's advice. 

The man wouldn't have stuck out to you with his hands in his pockets, hat over his eyes, shuffling with his head down towards the double doors. But his coat was far too expensive, one pocket sagging lower than the other. His shoes barely dirty. You knew he didn't belong here. And once he shifted his shoulder, his hand moving in his pocket, you felt like a hound picking up a scent. 

He moves into the warehouse, you follow, dashing across the large space between the buildings. You slide in through the crack of the doors before they close again with the men entering and exiting. The hard look on your face kept the men from addressing you as you tiptoed to see what direction the man went in. You see Ollie at the end of a row and run to him, asking him if he's seen anyone who matches the description. As you're clarifying if Alfie was in a meeting or expecting anyone, the man walks past you, you're hidden between a row of barrels. You freeze and whisper to Ollie that this was the guy in question. 

You peek around the corner, your hand on your gun in your pocket, much like the man you were following. You hear Alfie's voice but you don't see him yet. The man hesitates at the end of the row and looks around, you hurriedly move out of his line of sight to hide again, the gun outside of your pocket by your side. You move quickly around a grouping of barrels and exhale heavily with relief as the man comes into sight again. He cocks it, you can hear the snap like a radar blip in the white noise of the room. You hear Alfie's voice drawing closer. 

It's now just you and the man that you can see, so you draw your gun and aim. Alfie's holding his glasses in one hand, papers in another, in a seemingly important conversation with the large bald man you'd seen multiple times now. He doesn't even think to look up as he rounds the corner, and why would he in his own bakery? The man takes a deep breath, and so do you. You see the glint of the shine off his pistol, knowing now you have full reason to move on him. You creep out from behind the barrels to get a clear and clean shot. As his gun reaches the level of his chest, gripped tight in hand, you shoot him in the back of the head. Your aim pointed up towards the ceiling so if the bullet did exit, it wouldn't blow his warehouse to hell by hitting some barrel. Deny the rums existence all you like, that bread will still blow if you light it on fire. 

Alfie draws his gun and points it at you since you are the one who fired and the only one standing in his field of vision currently. He stomps closer to you, eyes lit with misdirected fire.

"WHAT THE FUCK YA THINK YA DOIN'?" he shouts, one hand out in exasperation, the other still point the gun at you. "Fuckin' shootin' in here? You gone fuckin' mad?" he asks, his eyes wide and his mouth open from shouting.

You hadn't even notice Ollie come up behind you and you jump at the sound of his voice, lowering your hands. "That man was going to shoot you. I saw it." he says with no surprise but loudly. Alfie switches his sight back to you.

"Fuckin' 'ell..." he groans. "In my own fuckin' shop." he spits out angrily.

You put the gun back in your pocket and stare blankly at Alfie to let him take stock of the situation. He follows you with his gun, you believe unintentionally as you approach the body. You remove the man's hat and grab him by the hair and show his face to Alfie. He's let the gun lay heavy in his hand by his side.

"You recognize him?" you ask, going through his pockets as you roll him over. 

"Can't say I do." he shakes his head, his brow furrowed, eyes worried. You find only a piece of paper with a time and address on it. You hand it over to Alfie as you step over the body. 

"He has grass on his shoes. He came from outside the city. We can assume who reached out to hire him." you say quietly, leaning into him to speak. 

"Excuse us Adam." he says to the man who had been walking with him, dismissing him. "Ollie get him out of here." he says, his eyes darting about. You didn't think he was in shock, certainly not the first time a gun was pulled on him, certainly not the last. "And you," he points his finger just inches from your face. "You come wif me." he mumbles, walking to his office. 

You walk in silence, he's rubbing his beard so you know he's thinking. He sits at his desk, you sit in the chair in front of it without command. 

"How'd you know about this?" he says with his focused eyes half hidden under an aggressive brow.

"I had a dream." you say reluctantly but honestly, your jaw tightening in hesitation to share. His face switches from aggressive to something more curious as his chin pushes up in your direction in question. "Sometimes I have dreams that seem to act as a precursor to something big occurring. Doesn't have to be something bad, like this. It can be something good as well." you shrug, sidetracking yourself subconsciously and pulling yourself back on track. "I had one of these about you." you state matter of factly, meeting his gaze again. "I had a certain feeling that something bad was going to happen to you. Much like I did when Horne attacked your house." you explain softly, you clasp your hands together in your lap so you don't fidget your fingers. 

"You had a dream like this when he attacked my house?" he asks, the aggression now completely gone from his face. 

"Yes." you nod slowly. "I didn't know you like I do now so I felt I couldn't assert myself into the situation directly." you elaborate, slowly and articulately to make yourself sound more certain and less like you were trying to sell him something. You were used to people, especially men, historically not taking any mention of dreams seriously. 

"And you had these dreams again? Did they tell ya where to go?" his voice has that trace of uncertainty still holding on, waiting to hear the right thing to believe you completely.

"No. It'd be a lot easier if they worked that way." you let out a soft huff of a laugh and tuck your hair behind your ear. "They're more symbolic. I knew you were supposed to be here today, because you told me," you state obviously, trying to add to the credibility of your actions. "So I came here to find you."

"And how'd you know who to shoot?"

"That certain feeling again. I think most call it a gut feeling." you say with a frowning micro expression, hoping he would accept the honest answer. "I saw his coat was too nice, too new to be a usual worker. I followed him in and asked Ollie if you had any appointments coming in, he said no. The man passed again and I could see he had a gun so I followed him." you end with a sigh and meet his eyes again, your shoulders slumping. 

"Fuck me." he gruffs out quietly, hands resting together in a fidgeting bundle in front of his mouth. "You're tellin' the truth." he states as if he's annoyed by the fact. "I can feel a lie and you ain't lyin', mate." he says with an unreadable expression. 

"Of course I'm not." you say with a hint of offense. "Why would I tell you this if it wasn't true? It's not like it sounds credible. If I were lying, I would've come up with a much better answer wouldn't I?" you say, pursing your lips, your brows dropping down, your eyes wide but in honesty and not manipulation.

"Do you find yourself having to save others like this often?" he says, his voice hitting you with relief.

"No." you shake your head, expressing your own disbelief. "You've been keeping me very busy." you say with a soft grin, trying to not give a reason to lose his calm demeanor. He nods, in acknowledgment, his face now set in a thoughtful expression, his eyes polite but distracted."I'll have to insist you start paying me for this kind of work if you keep this up." you lean your head towards him. You're sure to meet his eyes with a kind smile as his attitude filled face shoots its eyes at you.

"I might as fuckin' well, right?" he finally breaks with a laugh, shaking his head, closing his eyes for a few heavy seconds. He sighs and his fingers tap the desk for a few seconds in thought, gathering himself. 

"You should check the handwriting." you exhale, your adrenaline fading. Motioning to the piece of paper you'd handed him. "Or I can do it for you? I've done it before, that is." one side of your mouth draws back showing you understand the weight of your suggestion. " If you don't mind me seeing your books." you drop your voice for the last bit. You move your chin down to show him that you understood if he did not. His brow furrows just slightly, his eyes looking at you from under them as you see him hold his tension in his lips. He raises from his chair.

"It's very important to have trust in partnerships like ours, innit?" he speaks slowly and deliberately as he moves across the room, going to retrieve the book of signatures. "So this is trust, Genevieve, yeah?" His eyes stay on you as he speaks and walks back to his desk. You nod clearly and calmly at his statement in understanding. 

"I appreciate your placement of it in me. I'm relieved to hear of its existence." you say with a bow of your head, taking the book from his hand before he sits back down in his chair. 

"With me you're two for two on those dreams of yours and those are very good odds, aren't they?" he shakes his finger at you. "I'm gonna keep betting on ya if ya helpin' me not get fuckin' murdered, yeah? he reaches the piece of paper under investigation to you and you gingerly take it. 

"Why would I allow someone to get rid of you, Alfie? What would I fill my days with if someone succeeded in killing you? I'd be lost." you let the huge grin show through on your whole face, your head down, chest bouncing slightly with a low chuckle. Holding the slip in one hand, your finger already scanning the first page. He trusts you and he isn't even entirely sure why at  
moments like these, but here he was, compelled as usual. It wasn't the first time he'd heard of a woman having prophetic dreams, he just hadn't thought he'd ever come across one who would have them about him. You'd saved his life twice now and with asking nothing of any consequence back from him. This is really what lead him to believe you despite the interference of reason. He blinks slowly at you, his head slightly tilted in curiosity at your abilities in combination with that devastating smile.


	13. Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song is Trouble by Cage The Elephant.

"I'd say Linda sends her apologies for not makin' it out 'ere but you'd know I'd be lyin' but, Tommy did say to send his. I don't know whether the boys comin' or goin' anymore. Flyin' off by the seat of his pants at all hours." gruffs Arthur, leaning forward as Polly chuckles, watching Charlie who is in front of the fireplace, occupied with toy horses around him. 

"He flies around by the front of them as well." Polly adds in, her expression equally annoyed and exhausted by the fact she states.

You're in the nursery you'd had set up in the upstairs guest wing for the Shelby children when they came to visit. You'd spent hours with the four of them, Arthur had been able to talk Linda into letting him bring the baby. Linda wasn't particularly fond of you, seeing as she saw you as a godless, murderous, vain, harlot and all. You were indifferent to Linda. She made Arthur happy and that's all that really mattered. And now all that mattered was little baby Billy who was currently swaddled and gurgling in your arms. 

"I'm going to go down and have tea put in our rooms for after we put these little ones to bed." Polly states, looking over to Arthur who gives her a nod. 

"Lovely idea." you coo, looking down at the baby you were bouncing in your arms. 

Arthur clears his throat after Polly's footsteps fade down the hall. "So..." he says, his hands into his pockets, swaying up onto his toes and back onto his heels with a nod. "I 'eard Solomons is living with ya. I ain't seen him while we been here though." his eyes move around the room but don't look at you. You smirk over at him, your finger being demanded by Billy's tiny hand. 

"He is. Out working I assume." you say dismissively, "I'm sure you heard his place was bombed." you give a small shrug. "I happened to be around when he was threatened and offered him a place here if my predictions of harm coming to him were true." he looks over at you, his lips pursed under his mustache. 

"So you're not...ya know." he motions forward with his hand and you quietly laugh.

"Arthur." you shoot him an innocent smile. "The poor man's house blew up and I'm not heartless. And besides you and yours, he's the only man in our sort of business to show me any sort of respect since I've been here." you shake your head animatedly. "I'd dare to call him a friend at this point." you nod, looking back down at the baby as you speak. "He's been a gentleman if that's what you're wondering. He has in all our endeavors thus far." you explain in a warm tone.

"Ay, I was wonderin'." he nods looking at the floor. "Ain't the best blood between me 'n 'im ya know," he says with a small frown. "Don't want him to try 'n fuck ya over like he'd done us." he nods and walks closer, placing his hand on your arm. "I can't help but worry about ya here all alone, sweetheart. And with a man like that in that house." he says with an animated widening of his eyes and a huff of breath to punctuate his distaste.

"As always you're a very sweet peach dear, but I'm anything but alone here." you kiss his cheek and the baby goos, hands hitting your chest. "I don't feel he means me any harm. You know if I even had a fleeting thought that he might I wouldn't let him stay." you smile sweetly at him.

"I know, Genny, I know. Don't stop me mind from racin' at the thought though." he groans as Polly enters the room. She set the tray on a table, moving towards Charlie.

"Let's get this one to bed. Arthur, Billy's hungry, look at the way he's beating away on mother Greene's breast." she chuckles. "Go feed him and put him down, Papa." he lights up at the word. You hand him the baby.  
"You put him down and then go put yourself down, new father. You're going to get your sleep tonight so I'll watch the baby. " you explain.

"Oh bless ya, Genny." he says shaking his head. "I'd kill a 100 men for this little man but his cryin' does make me wanna add myself to that count after a few nights of it stealin' our sleep." he says with a sigh. "Damn those powerful lungs you have Billy boy!" he cheers, holding the baby under its arms as he walks out of the room.

As you settle and change Charlie, you and Polly speak quietly to each other. 

"Is Mr. Solomons behaving himself?" she asks with a suspicious inflection.

"He is." you nod with a small smile. 

"I had heard stories of a charming, well endowed, dark-haired woman he was seen with at a fancy party downtown." she lets out a small laugh. 

"They'll remember your breasts but they won't remember your name, will they?" you kid. 

"Comes as no surprise." she agrees with a shake of her head. 

"He invited me to help him feel out some potential business partners. That Cyrus Horne was at the party and we spoke with him. He has a lot of devil in him, doesn't he?"

"You would be correct in your intuition on Horne. His violence is well documented. Especially towards women." her tone drops in lightness as her eyes give you a warning. 

"I felt as much after only speaking with him briefly. I hope Mr. Solomons is the man he thinks he is and can fix the situation he's gotten himself into." you sigh at the thought. "I certainly don't want to have to keep saving him...not for free anyway." you say with a smirk.

Polly smiles at your outlook. "For both your sake's I hope so as well. Men and their messes, us with the dust pan behind them." she grumbles, hands on her hips. "Speaking of men's messes? How are your dreams lately?" her voice sounding comforting as she made her inquiry.

"They come and go. They change and they somehow stay the same. Dark sea, big storm, him in the water." you shrug. "They haven't kept me from sleep as persistently as they had been." you shrug, your tone implying you were, for the moment, content to exist in limbo. 

"And for you I know that's what really counts isn't it?" she says with a small smirk, tucking in Charlie.

"It certainly counts for a lot." you say with wide eyes, smoothing out Charlie's hair. 

"Well the consistency leads one to think that it does hold importance. However, if it's not evolving I suppose that signifies some sort of stability." she says almost as if it's a question. 

"The dream I had spoken to you about on the phone carried me straight to him, as a matter of fact. Saved his bloody life right from under his nose." you say with a sigh. "You could infer as much seeing as you hadn't heard word he was dead." you give a playful shrug, stating the obvious. 

"Yes I would've heard by now." she agrees, speaking quietly. "But historically your dreams haven't been of others, correct?" she asks, moving her hand to her chin in a thoughtful pose. 

"They've been mostly omens for myself, yes." you nod, crossing your arms and watching the boy snuggle into the pillows. 

"And now the night has decided to tie you and Solomons together." he say in a gritty way, his eyes narrowing. "And for a reason we cannot ascertain. Interesting, that." she says, her head tilting towards you.

"That's one word for it." you grumble.

"You might not be Gypsy, girl, but you are something, aren't you?" she says with a thoughtful nod. 

"Something perhaps, yes." you nod and raise your brows, speaking in a defeated tone. "I only wish I knew what that something was. I long to understand my own head better." your voice is laced with sadness she understands. 

She smiles down at you, placing her hand on your arm. "As long as the things we don't understand are working in our favor, best not to question them too much." she says with a chuckle that moves her shoulders. 

"Best not." you agree with an unsure smile.   
\-------  
With everyone in bed, you've been called to the babies room. You've been singing to him and he's quieter now. Just intervals of his vocalized distaste if you changed keys in your singing. You guess Linda must sing to him like this. You've lost count of what round of singing "The Boy I Love Is Up In The Gallery" you're on as you bounce him, his head on your chest. 

As soon as Alfie walks past the bottom of the stairs he hears your singing, acknowledging the sounds with a grunt as he squints his eyes in its direction. He goes to his room and leaves his outer layers behind as he makes his way up the stairs. He moves slowly as he nears the door to the room at the source of the sound he's drawn towards. 

He sees you, silhouetted against a large window. You turn to face his direction but you don't notice he's there. His eyes blink slowly at the sight, more affected by it than he had expected. There's a baby in your arms that you've snuggled to your chest and his mind thinks much like the instinctual infant on your chest as he grunts when he notices your chest in the dress you're wearing. He has the thought to be jealous of the baby as it snoozes away with small gurgles in between lines of the song, rubbing its face back and forth between your ample bosom as if to mock him. They're framed with importance in the long flowing, almost sheer gown, backlit by moonlight he can see the most accurate representation of your feminine shape he's been able to see so far, black against the ambient lights of the garden radiating up from the ground, a halo of light colored fabric around your body giving you an angelic glowing appearance. He moves his body into the doorway and catches your attention. You smile sweetly at him, continuing singing with a wink as you move to put the baby back into its crib. You're bent over the edge of the crib and he can't help but be frustrated with himself. This wasn't a welcome addition to his usual frustrations. You stop at the last line of the song, and walk towards him slowly. He watches you with tired eyes that eventually meet your own as you move closer and place your hand on his chest to move him out of the doorway. He'd not even thought to move away from you. In the back of his brain something sparks that he knew was just an evolutionary reaction to a man seeing a woman in such a situation, but how his mouth went dry as the thought crept further into the front of his mind, he pushed the thought back that it might be something more. 

"That weren't there when I left this mornin'." he jokes with you, finger pointed and grin worn. 

"It's Arthur's son, Billy." you grin and swat his finger away, moving past him to walk down the hall, he follows without a second thought. "He and Polly came by today. They're in bed. I offered to attend to the baby so he could get some sleep." you nod with tired eyes.

"Very kind of you, Genevieve." he nods, his lips pursed.

"If I were a new father I know I'd need the sleep. I'm just being considerate to my dear friend."

"Dear friend, eh?" he emphasizes the added descriptor of your relationship with the oldest Shelby. "I did suspect you and Arthur were close. What with the huggin' and kissin' and what not." his tone states this factually but the way his nose twitched as he says it makes your eyes narrow, watching his face.

"We're very close. Very similarly dual natured." you say thoughtfully, slowly as you descend the stairs. "And I hug and kiss all my friends, Alfie. I am French, after all." you kid with a grin as he's following you to your room and you're not even sure if he realizes where he's following you.

You stop and face him at the bottom of the small set of half circle stone stairs that lead up the large door leading to your wing of the house. 

"You are, yeah." he looks over your face as you stand, one hand on your hip.

"You consider us friends, Alfie?" you ask. You were genuinely curious where you stood with the man. He gives you a closed mouth smile first, looking down at you. 

His head leans back slightly, eyes looking at the ceiling showing consideration and as you stoically wait for a response. He keeps his chin up and looks down at you with eyes alone. "For what short time we've known each other, yeah? You and I have been through a bit of seriousness, 'aven't we?" he nods, his eyes narrowing. "Yeah." he nods, dragging out the word ina gravely noise, his face leaning back down towards yours. "I say we're friends Genevieve." 

"I was hoping you'd say that." you give him a sweet smile. "You've seen my personal sketches, on that alone by my rules we have to be good friends." you explain in a warm sweeping movement, your hands holding the long, voluminous fabric of your robe.

"You snuck in "good" onto that title friend, but I still cannot say I disagree with ya." his head shakes down at you.

"Then shall I start treating you as I do all my good friends?" you ask, looking up through your lashes just slightly. "If I touch you with a greeting or a goodbye, you're not going to try and snap my wrists out of instinct are you?" the teasing tone in your voice very evident. 

"Ridiculous. Now that I know you're really just a hard candy coating covering up a soft middle I won't be on edge around ya, will I?" he leans in with his own mocking tone and you narrow your eyes at him with a grin. 

"Then I'll say goodnight to you as I do to good friends," you say with a nod, moving to wrap your arms around his body. His arms hesitate to embrace you back, his eyes dropping to you in unison with your cheeks arrival upon his chest. "Hugs don't work one way." you state. His chest bobs your head as he chuckles at you, you feel him ease and his big arms send heat through your robe. "Much better." you say, patting his back with one hand and pulling away. He expects this to be the end but your hands take his jaw between them, planting a kiss with your lips solidly on either cheek. You release him and turn your cheek to him and tap it with one finger, your face expectant in the return of the gesture from him. "Kisses don't work one way either." your words start off coy then you laugh softly as he smirks at you. You feel his barely-there beard against your skin, he even gives you a smooch of a noise that makes your nose scrunch at the silliness of the gesture. Your other hand lands on his arm. "Goodnight, Alfie." you say softly, your thumb rubbing almost unnoticeably back and forth against his cheek before you pull away to raise your robe with both hands before ascending the stairs. He pulls the door back once you open it. 

"Goodnight, sweetheart." you peek your head back out of the door as he starts to close it. 

"You call all your good friends sweetheart?" you ask with a playful raised brow. 

"Just the pretty ones." one of your preferred incarnations of his cheeky grin is looking down at you. You scoff loudly but in stride at his impish words, taking the door into your own hands. 

"Go to sleep, Solomons." you laugh as you clang the door shut. He stands by the door, listening to your laugh as it fades behind your bedroom door.


	14. Tighten Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song is Tighten Up by The Black Keys.

He's reading a newspaper as you grace the dining room with your presence. You walk into the morning light flooded room cheerfully, your heels echoing on the stone floor. 

"Good morning Alfie." he hears you chirp, before he can turn his head to greet you he feels your hand slide across his upper back, your hip rests against his shoulder, you're smiling down at him, your face painted and your hair styled.

"It is." he says in a voice still gruff from sleep with a lazy smile. 

"You sound like you slept hard." you state as you give his back a short back and forth with your hand before sliding hip first into the seat to his right, you share a corner of the table.

"I 'spose I did, yeah." he nods, taking another bite. 

"Since we're breaking in formalities while we're home, hope you don't mind if I sit closer," you say in a tone that warrants a response. "Feels strange to speak when so far away sometimes." you add as an explanation of your actions. 

"Don't be ridiculous, Gen." he motions with a fork in hand as his eyes stay on the paper. "Your house, luv. Do anything your little heart desires." he takes a bite off his fork then shakes it at you. 

"I know it's my house," you state obviously with a slight snort that makes the corner of his mouth pull back at its rare appearances. "But friendships aren't just about what one of the people involved want, are they?" you say in your corrective but sweet way. 

"They are not." he nods, he looks you over, dressed in a sheer white blouse, a matching silk slip shirt underneath. Your hair in defined waves that were gathered at the nape of your neck. Your black skirt hugging you exactly as it should, hitting your waist and reaching just past your knees. He sees your black leather heels crossed over each other on your dainty feet. "You look very sharp this morning, ya workin' today too?" he asks as you as he watches you sucking the cream off a spoon mindlessly as you mix your berries around in the bowl. 

Your eyes swing over to his as you nod, spoon still in your mouth as you move saucers around. "Thank you," you say sweetly with a nod. "I work every weekday Alfie, you're just out of the house. " you say with a smug expression. "But yes, Joseph is loading up the truck, I'm doing personal deliveries today." you elaborate as you pop a raspberry into your mouth. 

"How much extra to get those personal deliveries?" he asks suggestively and raises his eyebrows. You shake the spoon at him, laughing before you take a sip of tea.

"I'll walk it up from the rows for you myself and you can take it to work, free of charge." you offer, grin still in place as you chew. 

"Now that doesn't sound as good for me. Pass." he frowns in faux disgust.

"I'm making personal deliveries to those whose places I intend to buy." his head turns back to you with interest. 

"Getting into real estate, eh?" he says, his voice sounding impressed.

"Gotten into real estate." you say with an amused hum while you chew. "I've got the money to front it all so I've been pursuing it more actively as of late." you elaborate, continuing to eat politely as you spoke. "I knew I couldn't come in as an outsider and have anyone let me buy their places without much fuss, so I've been buttering up all the business owners. Particularly those without a bit older, without children so I can be the sweetheart who swoops in and offers to take it off their hands." you wink at him, your fork punctuating your statement. "I'd like to buy up a little shops and houses and the like, nothing too big, ya know? Too much hassle, big is. Once I get it set up it'll be profit and perks. I'll have the businesses stay running. Fix it up, charge an admittedly higher but still humane price and have all the eyes and ears of the people that live there. I have no intentions to be some sort of slum lord or something soul-sucking such as that." your eyes move back to his subtle slack-jawed expression, his face listening, chin pushed out towards you with interest. You blink at him over the edge of your teacup. "As you know, buying real estate is a good way to hide and move money." you lean in just slightly, he can see the excitement in your eyes at your plans, enjoying the light-hearted tone to your voice as you moved and discussed your plans with him openly.

"You have admirably big aspirations," he says quietly, mouth thoughtfully posed before he sips from his teacup. "You been thinkin' 'bout this for some time, yeah?" he inquires.

"I have. I was thinking about this on the journey here from Paris," you say with a huff and raised eyebrows, feeling the weight of the length of time that you'd been here. "It's not the only plan I came back here with but, it is one that I knew would take longer to achieve. But that makes it almost more appealing to me somehow."

"You like a challenge." he states, nodding as a sneaky grin falls across your face. 

"I do." you bite your lip and wrinkle your nose with the same expression in place. "Big results require big ambitions."

"You like to do most things big don't ya, sweetheart?" he chuckles out with a teasing tone.

"I'm known to be a bit much for the more pedestrian sort, yes." you make a pleased hum at yourself. "That does help sort out all those not worthy of having around." your voice inflects as it departs it's wisdom. "And as it goes, do what you want and you attract what you need." you say with a flick of your fork, moving your focus back to your food. 

"Beautifully said." he nods, moving back to his plate as well. You smile in acknowledgment of his praise. "Since you seem to be feeling so ambitious, would I be able to peak your interest with a job that I happen to need someone with your expertise with Miss?" he says his tone is trying to persuade you and it's working. 

"I'm listening." you say, not looking up from your plate.

"There is a man whose house I need help breaking into." he plainly states.

"I need to keep it secret and silent. Break in, get paperwork from his office and get out." he offers with his palm upwards after he finishes speaking.

You chew and narrow your eyes thoughtfully. "So this is for money and not out of the goodness of my heart, correct?" you smirk. "Last time I helped you for free it didn't end so well for either of us." you remind him, smirk staying on your lips.

"Of course I'll pay ya, silly woman. This is an Alfie Solomons to Genevieve Greene professional transaction, yeah? Not Alfie 'n Genny's night out." he clarifies with a shake of his head. "I need a little sneak of a thief who can get in the house and let me in, then get us both out just the same." his voice is back to informational for a moment. "And from what Tommy Shelby's told me of your work, you're my first choice for the job." 

"Flattery will get you everywhere, Solomons." you smile and sigh, your elbows resting on the table top. "May I ask why I'm breaking into this man's house?" your voice inflects upward with curiosity, your chin resting in your hand as you lean in. 

"This man thinks he can break a contract, threaten me, attempt to fuck me over and sell me out to the police, yeah? The bastard didn't know I 'ave 'em on my payroll now. This fucker's cost me a lot of money and time. So I plan to blackmail him since he's a public figure and I can't shoot him in his fuckin' smug face." he grits out, his tone casual but with fierce delivery.

"I do love some good old-fashioned blackmail." you coo, your pinky of the hand your face rested in between your teeth in a show of enthusiasm. You promptly sit up and retract your hand, brushing the loose pieces of your hair off your shoulders. "I'm always down for ruining a man's life. All you had to say was that he tried to fuck with you." you let out a charming devilish chuckle. "One thing you should know about me, if you couldn't infer already..." you roll your eyes at yourself, an amused smile on your lips aiding in your confident delivery, "...is that when people think they can fuck with my friends, as we are." you say with a dip of your chin. "I prefer to personally ensure that those people know beyond a shadow of a doubt that they absolutely cannot and will not ever let a passing thought occur to them, even involuntarily so, that they could entertain the idea of ever trying to fuck with my friends or myself ever again." the words roll so appetizingly out of your mouth at him, your annunciation and pacing reminding him of poetry in your show of passion. By the time you're finished speaking your eyes have narrowed and your voice lowered to display the underlying seriousness of your words.

"I bloody love it when you talk like that." his head shakes back and forth slowly as that charming, cake eater grin rests on his handsome face.  
You respond with an entertained smile, rolling your eyes and scoffing at his words. "Oh go on, Solomons." you let out a small chuckle, not deflecting the praise. "You certainly listened when I said flattery works, didn't you?" you tease, your head tilted in his direction.

"I listen to everything ya say, luv. I can't say I have ever met a woman who can speak of doin' such dark things in a way that, when spoken directly at a man like myself, yeah? That would excite ones mind to the point of physical arousal." he says with a humor-filled warm tone, his eyes widen with the words and end with an enthusiastic nod of punctuation.

"Sounds like you've not been talking to the right women." you grin at him, popping a raspberry off your fingertip into your mouth as he stands to put on his jacket, as Ollie has appeared in the doorway. 

"Apparently not, eh?" he smirks down at you with narrowed eyes. "Perhaps I should seek out a woman with such skills as these," he says, his chin high as if he's searching for something in the distance, trying to sell his joke. "You know any of those types?" he teases, face set in a comedic expression of interest, his head tilted to the side as he walks backward out of the room. 

"None that would put up with the likes of you." your tone is mouthy but your smile reads as warm as you put your feet up on the table and cross your arms as you lean back into the high backed chair. You see Ollie smile subtly at your response. 

"That hurts now, Genevieve. Yeah?" he touches his chest, he turns and you can see his profile, as he takes his cane from it's home next to the entrance of the dining room. "Now Ollie, do you know how a man is supposed to carry on after a woman says things that crush his spirits in such a way?" he holds his cane high in his exaggerated pain.

"Go to work, Alfie." you huff out in amusement at his antics before he drops the fake forlorn face and tips his hat with his grin that's hard to read as cheeky or charming. 

"As the Lady orders, eh?" You hear him laugh after he's out of sight when he hears you let out a 'ugh' noise at his words.  
\------------------------------------------------------  
You've crawled up a ledge and let yourself into the house from a second story window, finding like most other second floor windows in homes you'd come across in this line of work, it wasn't locked. Finding the house empty, as you expected it to be, you strike a match to hold in the window as signal by the front door after you unlock the back one and wait for Alfie to come in to meet you. You've found the office and you're standing and taking in the room with your hands on your hips as he walks in behind you. You don't speak, he moves quickly to a safe, opening it and not finding what he needs, he curses. He turns with an annoyed face, brow furrowed and glancing around the room. You walk to the sitting side of the desk, a few feet from the wall safe behind it he's standing in front of. 

You pull the handles on the desk with your gloved hands. You pull out a pin from your hair and show it to him before you kneel down and pick the locks one by one, three in total as he rummages through the contents of the drawers. He picks pieces from each of them, sorting through them with a very focused face. 

He shuts the drawers, making sure they've locked back and shakes the stack of papers at you, planning on following out behind you. You give him a nod and grin that confuses him without context. You pull a flask out of your cleavage and his head shakes fast, not speaking but showing his puzzled words through an expression. 

You shoot him a confident glance and pick up a pillow on the couch. You very slowly pour the contents of the flask into the fabric of the pillow, slowly moving it across one bottom and it's sides. You bring the pillow to your nose and nod, setting it back on the couch and putting the flask back into your cleavage. 

His nostrils are flared, arms above his head in a nonverbal shout as you pass him with a roll of your eyes and motion for him to follow you with your hand. You lock the door behind him, making your way out the same way you'd come in. 

You plop down into the back seat next to him in the car as you meet back up a few roads away. 

"What the fuck was that all about?" he's asking in a hushed tone before you've even closed the door. 

You roll your eyes over to him, sitting sideways in the seat, to face him. "It's a signature of mine." you smirk and shrug a shoulder, entirely too relaxed for the tone he'd just thrown at you. "That was your rum in the flask." you explain as you take it out of your top again and take a drink as the car starts to pull out of its spot, you lean in closer to speak to him. Your faces intermittently lit by the rouge lights outside on the street. "By the time someone comes home, it will no longer be wet, but what it will do is give off the distinct smell of your rum everytime it's touched or moved for quite some time." his eyes narrow with a peaked interest in your clever move. "So anytime that pillow gets touseled about in the slightest, it'll give off that warm spice you've got going on and he'll be reminded of you. Thus," you motion out with your hand. "After you're done ruining this fucker he'll only have time to sit his sad arse on that seat and be constantly reminded of you, for some reason he can't understand, and he can lament in how he shouldn't have fucked with Alfie Solomons." you sit back slightly, your chin nodding and lip pouting in support of your statement.

Your eyes have been met by his for the entirety of your explanation as his face had slowly changed from possible anger to a face that's lips that almost stuttered at your story, moving away and back to with a fondness you were happy to find.

"I've done it with perfume and ex's before. Really fucks 'em up." you let out a girlish giggle as you let your body rest against the seat of the car.

"Ya fuckin' clever little minx, yeah?" he nods at you, his hand reaching out and giving your knee a supportive rub before returning to his own. "That brain of yours, Genevieve." he sucks his teeth at you, finger extended to tap once on your forehead. "Delightfully diabolical, 'at is." he praises. ina groan that makes you feel almost bashful at the words tone. He gives you a wink and wag of his finger as you turn to look out the window with a cocky smile from praise, as you make the long drive back home.


	15. Sympathy For The Devil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song is Sympathy For The Devil by The Rolling Stones.

You are once again spending your Friday night in the study with Alfie. This was becoming a reoccurring theme. He's sunk back into the couch in front of the fire. His glasses sit on his nose, it buried in a book. His feet covered in slippers and crossed at his ankles, the grey fabric matching the pajamas he was wearing, all covered in patterned light silk robe you'd talked him into trying on and he'd actually loved it. He hadn't admitted it but you'd seen him in the kitchen in the middle of the night wearing it and seemingly nothing else. Once you'd seen this you knew your theory about it feeling good with his sensitive skin was indeed correct. Aggie had pulled you out of bed to see him, and although you hadn't been opposed to getting to see him in such a way, you found her matchmaker tactics a bit heavy handed even if they were well-intentioned. 

You're sitting incorrectly in a chair, sweet sucked in your mouth, a common approach to lounging in your home. At first it had caught Alfie off guard, catching you upside down and sideways in chairs reading. He'd even come across you perched on table tops and laying on stair banisters in the sun much like a cat on occasion. Currently, you're sitting with your knees bent, legs hanging over the back of the chair, your back in the seat. You've been staring at the ceiling for a bit, just letting your mind wander where it wanted.

You were contemplating Alfie Solomons currently, as you found yourself doing far too often lately. Watching his nostrils flare and nose twitch over his fluffy mustache. You contemplated the charming glasses that sat atop his nose. His heavy, focused brow atop piercing eyes, even without the powerful look behind them, the blue enough to stand on its own and still affect a woman without the addition of intent behind them. You smile at his dark hair, currently lax and messy, longer bits falling about his forehead and ears. He was in such a state, as he'd had a bath after dinner and was now in full recline for the long haul into the night with the lovely plans of doing nothing in particular. His gingery beard, in a mix match to his dark hair reminds you of a Calico cat and makes you hum quietly in amusement. His rough hands with scaled knuckles hold an old book, you think you recognize the language to be Russian. He clears his throat, completely unaware of your study of him. You find yourself jealous you can't read Russian. You knew a handful of swears and basic directions from your childhood nurse, Ida but you only had very limited knowledge past that. You chew the inside of your cheek and consider learning Russian. You shift your weight in the chair, contemplating how intelligent he is. And not in the obnoxious academia way that you were too well acquainted with. He wasn't simply informed, he was clever. Your favorite expression of this being his quick and funny wit. Your mind then reminds you of how much he made you laugh, causing your nose to wrinkle subtly in consideration of how much you enjoyed his company. You switch back to considering the breadth of his knowledge before you take too many steps down that road of thought. Surely there were things for you to learn from this brain. 

"Alfie?" you call out inquisitively.

"Hmm?" he says with a grunt, eyes not leaving his book. 

"How well versed are you in Faberge?" you ask while you swivel yourself around, legs now over the side of the chair, your back against the opposite arm. His eyes look up from his book and over at you. 

"Quite a bit, sweetheart. What d'ya want to know?" he removes his glasses and closes his book. 

"Oh, nothing in particular," you shake your head. "I was just thinking about them." you say biting your lip. "Have you ever come across one?"

"I 'ave." he nods, bottom lip jutted out just slightly. 

"Which?" you pry enthusiastically. 

"Lillies of the Valley and a few of the Russian ones, but I didn't get as good of a look at 'em as I did the Lillies." he says with a fond, nostalgic tone.

"Mmmm." you hum contently at the thought. "I've heard it's breathtaking, covered in pearls with shimmering pinks and greens." you hand emphasizes the description and lands on your chest.

"Stunning, it was." he nods. "What about you?"

"I've seen five different eggs." He blinks at you, very surprised. "I had friends with exceptionally rich fathers growing up." you explain with a chuckle and a wave of your hand. "One was a Kelch, and the others from the Imperial collection." he nods in thought, his eyes looking down to the ground. "Seeing as my encounters outnumber yours, might I interest you in adding another egg to the list of those you've seen?" you grin sheepishly. 

"Is this your way of asking me about a job?" he says, a singular brow raised in a scolding expression. 

"No. I have one." you savor the look on his face as it shifts quickly before your eyes. 

"Ya fuckin' what?!" he shouts, his brow shooting up in his excitement that was masked by a mean tone. "In the fuckin' house?" he says just as loudly, cutting you off and your smile grows wider as you see that familiar enthusiasm.

"Yes." you nod and give him an obvious expression. "Where else would I keep them?" you say in a playfully condescending way. 

"Why'd you never mention this before?" his eyes blink rapidly at you, he leans forward in the seat, his tone stung slightly with offense. 

"I didn't know if I could trust you now, did I?" you say, turning to sit in the chair normally. "I couldn't have you going and stealing my favorite things because then I'd have to kill you and that would be a great big fucking mess to deal with." you chuckle as you stand from the chair. "Besides, it's in my bedroom and I'm not about to go invite a known criminal to come in and get his hands all over my precious things as soon as he walks in the door." You smirk at him, making your way across the room, being entirely cheeky with the double meaning of your words. 

"Well no one can say you aren't smart, Genevieve." he says with a chuckle, eyes watching you as he sits up in the chair.

"A man has to earn these sorts of things from me." you state, your hands on your hips. "I suppose you've earned it, Solomons." you say in a playful tone as he stands from the couch. 

He's standing in the doorway of your massive bedroom. You've disappeared into a doorway to change out of the dress you'd been wearing, Informing him to stay as if he were a pet. He takes in the room, finding himself almost intimidated, highly intrigued and slightly aroused. Everything felt plush and luxurious as soon as you walked in, the thick rug beneath his feet, the velvet fabric hanging from the bed and walls, the pale grey paint covered in pictures. Paintings of all sizes in bold, elaborate gold frames in a well-spaced collage across the room. Among the squared paintings hung portraits of you and of others he didn't recognize, depictions of gods and goddesses, and acts of biblical brutality. The huge canopy bed, draped in black velvet curtains sits in a circular space, huge tufted with gold buttons headboard sitting very close to the solid wall that sat between two huge windows. The curtains matched those of the canopy, everything else in the room in gold and rich jewel tones. A black based, but brightly patterned rug covers most of the floor, the wood beneath it stained almost as dark. The furniture all a matched set, a beige-white and gold filigree exterior, a similar look you had in many rooms of the house. 

He walks to a bookcase, books in many different languages, some very old and well read, some new with uncracked spines in rows. The ones he could understand the writing on shown a similar theme among all the books...sex. This made him give a cheeky glance that wasn't meant to be seen in the direction you've walked. A large painting hung above the bed which now held his attention. He didn't recognize the artist, but it was a nude woman, slightly reclined with a huge black snake twisting up her body, it's head resting on her shoulder, a subtle smile on both their faces. He could imagine the things he didn't know about you, the bits of you that caused you to chose this specific painting to hang in such importance. He imagined and he yearned to know with more certainty, feeling his interest peaked. He hadn't expected this in your bedroom, but as his eyes search for something to give him further insight into your mind you call out in a lilted voice for him.

He walks through the threshold, through a tiled and marble bathroom, through a less obvious doorway which led him into a huge closet.   
"Ya dead posh, innit ya?" he says, his mouth slightly open. Taking in the multiple rows of clothes with a wide grin at your possessions. 

He follows you further into a different chamber of the closet, a fitting room with raised center and huge mirrors, and drawers and drawers of glass lidded boxes containing jewels. A top a pedestal, covered in a large bell jar with a gold handle and rim, sits the Danish Palaces egg. The pink egg, lined in gold and diamonds sits in its holder, it's keepsake stretched out, a series of panels matching the egg with different landscapes inside sits alongside it. 

You sit with legs crossed at the knee, leaning back on your hands on a big, round, tufted and fringed mauve ottoman. "The bell is very heavy dear, be careful, I know you're in a hurry to get your hands all over her." you tease, watching him gently set his cane onto the seat next to you and inspects the egg.

"Hello." he drags out the word in a groan, in a voice so low it makes you smirk at its implications. The tone being warranted to be said between thighs instead of to an object. He picks up the egg with two hands, approaching it with a face that saw nothing else in the world at that moment. You watch him with a smile and a tilted head, your foot bobbing up and down as his brow weighs heavy over his eyes. "Did ya steal it?" he asks, no hesitation or judgment in his voice.

He looks over his shoulder at you as you let out a loud laugh at his straightforward question. "I did not actually. I bought it as a birthday present to myself."

"When's ya birthday?" he asks, his face scrunched up and almost looking your way, not willing to look away from the egg. 

"August." you answer, surprised he cared to ask such a thing. 

"You would buy yourself a birthday present." a subtle smile comes across his lips, his face moving back to the egg. 

"Well, I would know better than anyone else as to what to get myself for my own birthday, wouldn't I?" you ask, no tone of offense to his critical retort. 

"If Faberge is what you demand for your birthday, you're pricing out most of the men in London there, princess." he muses, humor in his voice but not so much his face.

"Good," you say with a low chuckle. "And I am not a princess. I don't demand Faberge for my birthday." you roll your eyes and purse your lips at him, holding your chin up. 

"Getting a Faberge egg on your birthday though, yeah? Sure sounds like a princess to me, mate." he grins.

"More like a Queen," you say with a weak, smug expression. "I worked my ass off for the paydays that purchased that." you point aggressively at the egg. He turns his face to you as you start to walk towards him. "I wanted this bought legally and with own money I earned so it couldn't ever be taken from me." you reach out with a type of sadness he's only seen before briefly as you spoke of your family. He hands the egg over to you. You sigh heavily and inspect it. "I understand why you'd call me a princess." you glance up at him, a small chuckle escaping you, a fleeting smile passes across your face. "And I am a bit, but I'm self-aware enough to know that." you shrug slightly. "But then there's the woman who had to go through the mistakes and work her ass off to get this." you sigh and hand the egg back to him. "I suppose I'm as much of one as I am the other." your head tilts to the side, your eyes are gazing far away to something intangible. "But I would rather you refer to me as a woman than princess out of the two." you look at him with much more humor at yourself than he anticipates when he looks up from the egg. 

He doesn't respond for a heavy minute but looks at you very seriously, you let out a relieved sigh as you study his face. "I weren't implyin' you dinnit deserve it." he says quietly, his face leaning in closer to yours. 

"I know that,"you give him a small smile. "I'm just a bit sensitive about money sometimes." you scrunch your nose in an apologetic look. "Didn't mean to come at you so heavy with the feelings." you take an animated deep breath and let out a slightly nervous chuckle and move over a set of drawers. 

"If there's anything to feel strongly about," he says, sitting the egg back on the pedastool "I believe money would be near the very top of that list." he holds your hand and pats it with his own. You nod and look at him from under your lashes. His eyes searching yours for a sign he could make the sadness receed in them. "You've managed to buy one for yourself though, eh?" he adds. "I dont know no princesses that can say that." he suggests with a shrug of his shoulders.

Now it's your turn to pause. You look up at and can't help but smile at the genuine look in his eyes. You push up to your tip toes and plant a single kiss on his face, directly by his mouth. He's very surprised by this as he stiffens as you move away.

"What's 'at for?" he asks, his voice inflected with amusement at you.

"You're very sweet when you want to be. You know that?" you ask, your eyes wide at the question. You slip your hand from his, turning to place them on the drawers in front of you.

"I don't recall bein' referred to as sweet before." he says, only his eyes moving over you. 

"Perhaps it's not everyone's kind of sweetness." you shrug. "I'm sure you've been told you're good with words before." you state matter of factly. "Same horse, different color." you add before you turn to face him. "Now you can understand my actions that day at The Garrison a bit better."

"Oh I understood that as soon as I found out Tommy proper fucked ya on that." he nods enthusiastically.

"I've not been able to find out who bought that egg." you say quietly, as his eyes slide back over to you after being distracted by the contents of the room. "You wouldn't have happened to have heard anything, would you?" you ask. He makes a low humming noise at your request.  
"Might have." he shrugs. "Might not've." he grins. "If you can tell me how you knew about that egg being there then maybe I can entertain a bit of tit for tat." 

You snort at his choice of words."I bet you could." your tone scolding your face on the verge of laughing. "I know the owner. I've been in the house before." you say obviously, your arms crossing across your chest. "But I couldn't get to the floor with the safe as a guest." 

"How you know 'im?" he asks, his eyes narrowing.

"Someone that seemed to take a liking to me after I had to distract him for a job once." you explain. "Sometimes I keep in touch if their particular sets of skills might serve me in the future." you explain, calmly.

"Oh, is that what ya doin' with me then?" he teases, giving you a boyish smile. 

"I'm not visiting your home, I invited you to live in mine." you state with importance. "Hardly the same thing, dear." you say with a huff of a laugh, tilting your head with a smile as your eyes scold him for the suggestion.

"You might got a point there." he says quietly, sheepish smile as he looks around the room again. "I don't know who bought the egg but I could give you a short list of who it might be if it's in London." he offers, his hands out. "The Italians tend to sale things quickly and therefore a local buyer is usually behind the purchase." he further explains, offering you actual helpful information. Not exactly as advertised but you had agreed to the terms. 

"Thank you for saving me the trouble of having to flirt my way for information through the jewelry quarter." you say with a lighthearted laugh. "What do I have to do to get some names from you Solomons?" you ask playfully, leaning back against the set of drawers.

"I can't go giving you the names of all my best buyers now, can I?" a grin, predatory but charming still, appears and is directed forcefully at you.   
"I know you're not that thick," you snort at the suggestion of you trying to sneak information out of him. " and I know nothing is free so that's why I asked what I need to do so I can find this person and this egg." your voice is softer in volume but sharper in tone.

"I ain't promisin' nothin'." he shakes his finger at you and your confident grin makes him let out a low groan of a noise at your cheeky stare. "But I will ask about eggs if the opportunity arises." he says hesitantly, narrowing his eyes to make it seem like he wasn't giving in. 

"You are going about paying me back for saving you in such a lovely way, Alfie. I told you you were a sweetie." you say with a cocky grin, your hand trailing across his chest as you move to the other side of the room. 

"I think you and I have a different understanding of the word, sweet." he says in a low tone.

"Doubtful." you say in a mysterious little laugh. "If there is one thing we do speak the same language on its jewels, isn't it?" you say with a near lilt in your voice, pulling open a drawer. He wants to ask you what you mean but his eyes and body are currently being ripped towards the diamond and sapphire necklace he's now looking at. 

"Hell." he hoarsely whispers out. "You like sapphires, eh?" A very long chain, consisting of diamonds, and a large, flat backed sapphire oval sits suspended. 

"I look good in blue, what can I say?" you say oozing with certainty."I've not found an occasion to wear her out yet though." you say as he looks over to you for permission to touch it. You nod with an obvious expression and watch his eyes reflect back the shine of the stones. "Wearing it starkers around the house just doesn't give one the same excitement as wearing it out where others can envy it." you muse for a moment, you speak almost as if you're thinking out loud and he lays the piece back on its velvet cushion. "Would you like to see something besides Sapphires?" you grin with a dramatic flutter of your long lashes up at him.

"There's more?" he asks almost exasperated.

"Oh my god, yes, Alfie." you let out a cackle, one hand to your chest. "You see all these drawers on this side of the room?" you ask, hunching over slightly and running your hands across the top of the one you were standing in front of. "All pieces. Necklaces, earrings, bracelets, rings, did I mention necklaces because I am quite fond of those." you sigh contently, beaming up at him.

"You just keep these all in your closet?" he asks, slightly concerned. 

"Well you didn't walk through a normal door to get into this room did you?" you say with a head tilt and a grin. "This room is it's own safe of sorts. Can't just leave these things lying about, ya know." you smile sweetly, twisting your shoulders. 

"What's the percentage of purchased and stolen on these?" he smirks and you meet him with your own.

"Does it matter?" you ask cheekily, your shoulder moving up to your chin in exaggeration. You both shake your heads no and share a scrunched expression that turns into a shared laugh as you hold out your hands for him to explore the contents of the shelves.


	16. Don't Speak (I Came To Make A Bang)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song for the chapter is Don't Speak (I Came To Make A Bang) by The Eagles of Death Metal.

He thought you'd been acting suspiciously since you'd asked him for information on the egg. He had considered he was being a bit paranoid but you being so sure about your own intuition made him try to listen to his own a bit more closely. Although it was also telling him to trust you, and that was conflicting. Ollie certainly seemed to trust you, but what did Ollie know. 

So here he was, watching you shimmy up a column and across a ledge on a building. He's mesmerized at how you do this and still yet in a dress. Given you'd apparently customized a skirt to be hitched up with loops that fastened together to hold it up and out of the way, while your limbs kept stretching farther than he thought they would, it was all impressive. He sees what his men had told him about her first job with him was correct. He hoped your avoidance of specifics on where you were supposed to be tonight was just business and not personal. Signs were pointing to the former currently but he still found his mouth set in a frown of worry as he watching you move up to the roof and out of sight.

He had walked down a few alleys, you'd been out of sight too long and he went to look for you. The longer he went without hearing or seeing you the more his suspicion turned to worry. He wasn't too concerned about trouble himself with the gun in the back of pants and the large rings on his fingers that would assist already lethal fists. 

You're sitting under the edge of the half wall on the roof of the building. You hear the step-step-click of Alfie in the alley below you. You thought you'd seen a car like his earlier but there was no way to be able to know for certain. You had no clue why he would be here tonight. You look at your wristwatch and groan because there are only a few minutes before a guard will be up to check the roof. You begrudgingly throw your leg over the wall and make your way down the side of the building. He's standing in the middle of the space, his head tilted at you. 

"What are you doing here?" you angrily whisper, approaching him with quick steps, head first. 

"I could ask you the same thing." he says as if he's annoyed that he's there, his voice not quite like yours.

"For fuck's sake." you breathe out, rolling your eyes at his answer of a question. You don't know if he heard you but it wasn't really said for him. "I don't have time for this, Alfie." you hiss at him, pushing him against a wall, out of the middle of the lane, where anyone could see him clearly, and therefore also you. "Keep your voice down," you say, leaning close to his face to let him know you're serious as he opens his mouth to speak again. "I'm working! Why are you HERE?" you squeak at him. Trying to control the volume of your voice, nervously glancing back up at the roof. The guard would be up soon and now you had this pompous ass to deal with. The road was too far away to make it before the guard came now. You couldn't run through the alley's because you'd be heard with how quiet this part of town was at this time of night. You consider your options as he speaks.

"Working for who?" he whispers back as you take your hands off him from pushing him into the shadows. 

"Wh-huh?" you ask, turning your head back to him. "That's information that's on a need to know basis."

"And I need to know." he says shaking his head. 

"Dammit, Alfie." you sigh, your shoulders slumping. "It doesn't involve you. I don't even know how you knew I'd be here, that was also supposed to be privileged information." your voice threatens to rise in noise as you find yourself supremely frustrated by the way Alfie was trying to throw his weight around metaphorically on you with this curiosity about your own personal business. 

"You know I can find out anything, Gen," he says in a power move, you purse your lips at him. "You ask me about my buyers and then you avoid me? Is that not suspicious?" he says in an angry whisper.

"Because there's no other possible reason besides the one that involves you that could've had me distracted? God, you're ridiculous sometimes," you say exaggerating an eye roll, moving your head with it, you put your hand on your face. You're taken out of your anger and back into panic as you see your watch and realize there is around one minute left before the guard circles around. "I do not have time for this right now, Alfie." you bite your lip in thought for a moment, your eyes darting around the space. You couldn't run, you'd be heard and thus, chased. You couldn't hide, so your mind rolled through your options while you multitasked with having to carry on this conversation. "I have no intentions on fucking you over and if you don't trust me by now then I don't think you ever will." you pour out as a plan of action comes to you. It wasn't ideal but, it'd probably work. 

He opens his mouth to speak and you put your hand over it. 

"Shit." you say fast and your face screws up, you look at him and realizing what you had to do. "Listen very closely to me right now." you remove your hand and it goes up to start undoing the braid in your hair, you keep your hands fast and busy as you speak. "There's a guard that's going to come onto the roof and check the alleys in..." you check your watch. "Fifty-five seconds." His eyebrows raise, his arm twitches to think to pull the gun. "No, we can't shoot him. So we have one option left now thanks to you." you angrily sigh at him. You unsnap the buttons on your skirt loops that had been holding it up and close to you. His eyes go from possible violence to complete confusion. Your fingers furiously work as you speak. "So now..." you move to pop the buttons on the front of his shirt, moving your hands under the shoulders of his jacket, pushing it down his arms slightly. His mouth is opening and closing like a fish in his lack of ability to express his confusion in the moment. "We've got to convince this guy we're just a man and woman out here looking for some privacy..." you fluff your hair and tug at the neckline of your dress to make yourself look more disheveled. You knock his cane out of his hand and grab one of his wrists. "Looking for a good snog turned to something more so he doesn't interrupt us. Alright?" His eyes blink and you wish you could freeze his face in this moment because his shock is all of his own doing for not trusting you and reacting brashly to his own emotions. You hitch your leg over his hip, placing his hand in yours onto your ass. "He'll leave eventually if he believes us." you whisper as you lean in closer to him."Mind the snubnose in my tits, if you don't mind."add quietly. You're paused with your mouth inches from his, head tilted to kiss him, you look up into his wide bright eyes as they can't move away from yours. Your hands run up his chest. "Do you understand?" you ask again, pushing him with your palms, looking for confirmation. He nods even though he gulps noisily, as the breath from a noisy exhale hits your face.

"Yeah." he nods, his chin pushing back into his neck slightly as he looks away from your eyes and up to the roof. "C'mon. Get on wif it." he says, clearing his throat as if now he's waiting on you. 

You shut your eyes before you can roll them from his tone as you connect your lips to his. At first you're met with hesitancy and mostly mustache with the hint of his plush bottom lip. You're moving your lips slowly across his lower one, you slowly bite it, tugging at it slowly as you suck it into your mouth, your hands move up his chest and neck slowly into his hair and it's as if a switch is flipped. You can feel his body rev up under your hands. Once his lips push against yours, you're taken off guard by how soft they are when working as pair. One of his hands, moves up into your hair and the other, still where you'd placed it pulls you against him. This earns a small 'oof' that turns into an encouraging mewl as you feel his nails scraping against your scalp and his head pushes back against yours. The kiss turns from entry level to advanced as he opens his mouth against yours and you're thankful because you need to go bigger to sell this to the guard. As soon as your tongue touches his he groans and you gladly reciprocate the sound. His arm wraps around your lower back, you feel the pressure from his individual fingertips pressed into your ribs as he squeezes you against him. You move one arm down his chest and around to his back, feeling the muscles move underneath your hands and you can't help but be taken out of the urgency of the situation as you feel him flex to grab ahold of you and flip you to be against the wall. The surprise of the moment elicits and a muffled squeal from you and you feel his lips smile against yours in a paused moment, hearing how fast and heavy you were both breathing. He sucked your bottom lip into his mouth and continued his luscious assault upon your tongue with his. His enthusiasm draws another moan from your throat as your fingers dig into his shoulder and the other grips in his hair at the back of his head. You're surprised and delighted by the literal growl this causes from him as you let out a low, feminine, naughty laugh as he pulls back and shakes his head at you. You feel his fist gripping your hair but yours is much longer and there's less control from his end, but it does yank your head back and his kisses start to wander from your lips. Now it's your turn to make your version of a growl for him as his lips move down your jaw. This you didn't expect but as you sneak to glance at the guard watching you you're hit with a thrill of adrenaline, reminded that you were doing this for business and not pleasure. As his breath hits your ear your heavy breathing causes you let out a moan to the still night air. "Still there?" he whispers, his lips kissing the shell of your ear. 

You let yourself giggle like a school girl getting whispered sweet nothings in her ear before you let out a breathy and very audible "Yes" that moans out close to his ear as you move your head to nuzzle into him slightly. You feel him nod and continue with what you're sure will be a favorite story to tell after the fact.

His lips stay on your ear for a few more wet rounds of nibbling on your lobe and you bite your lip and your hips instinctually roll against his. This could not go unnoticed, as he groans directly against your ear and you encourage him with a similar sound of your own. He buries his busied lips and tongue in the curve of your neck, brushing your hair back far too tenderly to match the tone of everything else happening to you. You feel his hand move under your skirt, as he wraps your still hitched leg around him even closer, his rough palms gliding over your upper thigh, setting your center directly on top of his. Your fingernails rake through his hair and you hear the muffled moans slip past his tongue that's massaging into the muscles on your neck. You're still panting as his hips start to move and you are caught off guard but are thrilled at his dedication. Letting your head tilt back and more sweet sounding desperate breaths and moans come tumbling out of your mouth as you look to see the guard still there. He moves his other hand to your face, kissing you deeply with a moan escaping pink, kiss-swollen lips before impact. The glimpse in his eyes, half-lidded and focused on your mouth entirely before they shut, show you blown out pupils that you assume would mirror your own at being handled in such a way. You feel his hand grasping your thigh to hold you against the wall. His hips roll again and that's when you feel him. You let out an entirely too genuine moan into his mouth at the feeling of him hard up against you. 

"Still there?" he whispers, pulling away from you just enough to tug at your bottom lip with his teeth. 

You're looking into each other's eyes this time as you nod at him with a pitiful 'Mmm Hmm' of a sound. He lets go of your lip and moves to groan into your partially exposed chest his face burying itself there. You move your fingers to card through his hair as he kisses his way across your chest, you bite your lip to keep from laughing from the surprisingly soft tickle of his beard against your sensitive skin. His hips push against you in a solid movement that drags him across your most sensitive parts and your face focuses, your brows knitted together, your bottom lip tightly between your teeth, you don't hold back on the noises and you're more than thankful for the actual stimulation even though it'll be mostly felt later when you recall it instead of now. He moves his hips on occasion as if he's really fucking into you as his hand's grip on your naked thigh runs hotter and tighter. You're starting to get annoyed at the guard not leaving because you're enjoying yourself too much and how much longer must you endure this before you have to ache all the way home. As if he feels you were less enthusiastic, he returns his mouth to yours and thoroughly distracts you with a heated kiss. You grunt at the impact but quickly lose yourself again in the chorus of moans you're both willingly releasing into each other's mouths. By the time he's through with this round of working moans out of you by means of your lips, he once again moves towards your neck. This gives you the chance to look up and see the guard has left. You let out a noisy exhale as Alfie sucks on your shoulder. 

"Alfie." you moan out, still caught up in what he was doing to you, trying to get his attention. 

"Fuck." you hear groaned in a deep voice into your neck, his mouth moving up to your ear. You can hear the small moans with every breath and press of his mouth against the skin behind your ear. You grit your teeth and make yourself stop. 

"Ah-Alfie." you call out again, your hands moving to his shoulders, you blink your eyes fast to steady yourself mentally. His hips press up against you steadily. 

"You stop that right now, Genevieve." you hear him growl into your ear and you literally feel yourself get wet and gasp from those words breathed into your ear in their harsh tone of warning. You let out one final shudder, it waves it's way across your body before you speak again. 

"He's gone, Aflie. He's gone." you pant out, rolling your eyes at how hard it was to get out the words. He leaves his parted lips on the shell of your ear for a moment with no movement. You feel the hand on your thigh start to ease it's grip almost immediately. You're both still pressed together, your chests heaving against the other. 

"Right." you hear him say into your ear with what you thought was the tone of hesitation. He lets your leg fall and holds your hips as he moves away from you to make sure you're steady before he lets go. You give him a nod, already moving to straighten your dress and look busy while he tried to hide the physical proof of how much he'd enjoyed that little romp as well. Once you're back to being yourselves, in the cold light of the moon, you're thankful things don't feel that different. Just a buzzing in the air around the two of you left. 

"Not half bad, Solomons." you say in a deep tone as you let out a quiet laugh, your tongue peeking out from your teeth just slightly in jest. 

He's fixing his shirt as your eyes roll up to his. "Not half bad, Greene." he grins but doesn't keep eye contact long, clearing his throat and shoving his hands into his pockets. You succeeded in not looking in that direction.

"Come, we have to get out of here before another one comes around. Don't wanna have to do that again do we?" you let yourself have one more chuckle before running your hands through your hair and letting out a thought filled sigh. He doesn't respond but has a focused brow as he looks down the alleyway, his feet starting to carry him in the same direction. "No, no." you whisper, reaching out and taking his hand in yours without even thinking about it. "You can't go that way, they'll see you." you shake your head at him as his eyes go to your hand. "Can't help but get yourself into trouble can you?" you say in a certain but not demeaning tone. You tug on his hand slightly as he starts to move towards you. "Follow me." you whisper with a duck of your head towards him. You pull your hand which was laced into his loosely, you're distinctly aware of the tension you sense in his fingers as you feel them hard and almost gripping against your own as you let them go.


	17. No. 1 Party Anthem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song is No. 1 Party Anthem by Arctic Monkeys

"Alfie?" you call out, walking down the hall towards his study. 

"In 'ere!" he calls out and you move through the doorway."I know that tone, what do you want, Genny?" he says, his eyes moved up to meet you as you stepped closer, his head still down. 

You give a small pout in defeat, shrugging and sitting on the desk, facing him on his side just to his right. "Do you like the opera, Alfie?" you ask, your face towards him, your eyes on the window behind him. 

"Is this a loaded question?" he asks bluntly, looking at you over his glasses.

"There's one this weekend I want to see and I don't have any friends here who like the opera and I don't want to go alone." you explain, your posture slumped.

"And?" he says, holding his ear closer to you waiting for where he came into this plan.

"And if you like the opera I was hoping you would go with me." you state plainly. 

"Is this how you ask men out on dates?" he teases you with a glance. 

"If I were asking you out on a date, believe me, you'd know Solomons," you say patronizingly. "I said friends, didn't I?"

"Oh? We still friends?" he chides, his eyes looking to your crossed arms and legs, referring to your closed off body language.

"Don't be daft, we've BEEN friends." you smack the back of your hand against his arm. "It's Saturday night in London," you say with a sigh.   
"Romeo et Juliette. I can get us a box if you want to go." you state with upturned palms. 

"Oh, you payin', eh? You are taking this girl out for a nice night innit ya?" he says with a chuckle. 

"If you could stop giving me shit and give me an answer that would be much appreciated." you lightly scold, crossing your arms back and groaning. "Otherwise I'll have to take Claire and she's miserable company since she hates these sorts of things." you shake your head in defeat.

"Eh," he says scrunching up his face and humming. "I've not been to the opera in ages," he says, narrowing his eyes at you as if he's still considering his words. "Of course I'll go with ya," he says very obviously. "I'll get the tickets, you just get dressed up and we'll be good as gold, yeah?" he says, holding his glasses in his hand, moving them in your direction. His eyebrows are up and his face holds a warm glance laced with condescendence that expressed itself in his tone. "Can't have ya goin' 'n gettin' cross on me now, luv.?" he says patting your hand that rests on the desk. 

"Like pulling teeth with you," you say, you lean down over him, your hands on his shoulders. "Thank you, you complete ninny." you say warmly as you kiss the top of his head. You make your way around the desk.

"Why don't you use this as an excuse to wear that long sapphire necklace you've been keepin' locked up, eh?" he suggests, as soon as he'd placed in back into the drawer he instantly regretted not having you try it on first.

"Would that be a bit much?" you ask, your voice aloof, turning to face him.

"Did I hear Genevieve Greene ask if something would be "a bit much'?" he says with a scoff. "And here I was, thinking I was gonna show you off at my club but clearly you aren't the woman I thought you were." he says with a shrug an exaggerated frown.

"When did you get a club, Alfie?" you say approaching the desk with quick steps, your hands now resting on top of it. 

"Had it awhile, Gen, I've just kept my involvement quiet because I thought it best for keeping the place the same." he says in a lower voice.

You stand looking over his head, in thought for a moment. "Do I get to drink for free if I show up with the boss?" you say with a cheeky grin.

"You show up with me you can do whatever the fuck ya want, luv." he says with a rumbling chuckle as he looks up at you over his glasses.  
\-----------------------------  
The door to your bedroom is open and so is the door to your wing. You hear Alfie calling for you from the front lobby, barking rushed commands at you. You're not actually running behind but he seems to just enjoy giving you a hard time. He's looking out of the window by the door.

Claire brings out your fur shawl to Alfie before she heads out for the night herself. He throws it over his shoulder to hold it. "You are taking her to see Romeo and Juliet?" she says with a smirk, her hands on her waist.

"More like I was guilt tripped and I'm making the best of it." he says with a slow laugh.

"She doesn't leave one with much of a choice when it comes to what she wants, does she?" she says with the tone of teasing in her voice. "Don't let her drink too much before she watches the show." she suggests, moving towards the door and pulling on a hat. 

"Why?" he asks, his head tilting back to show his concern.

"Gen connects with art in an emotional way," she says quietly. "She's more inclined to believe in romance when it's in the form of art as opposed to real life." she shakes her head, it leans against the edge of the opened door with a sigh. "So her emotional connection to romance performances, particularly tragic ones, will break her heart." she smiles warmly as she speaks, leaning away from the door. "So if she's drunk she might turn into a melancholy mess on you." she laughs.

"Thanks for the warnin'." he says, thankful Claire seemed to be warming up to him. 

"Well as we both know she's a handful. I don't want her to make a fool of herself because I'll have to deal with the consequences," she admits with a grin. "She looks like some sort of fallen angel tonight, Mr. Solomons." she pauses, giving him a mischievous grin. "If you aren't careful, you'll be the one getting your heart broken tonight instead." the same grin still in place upon her face as she gives him a nod and she heads out the door. 

He clears his throat, being left alone in the room. His brow furrows in thought at Claire's words. His eyes wander the room, he knew you'd look beautiful, you always did. Perhaps she was just trying to mess with his head, she seemed like the type. He was also surprised to hear of your view on romance, his lip juts out slightly at the passing thought. He knew you loved art but didn't know that in all your hopelessly romantic words you'd spilled about things you loved, that that's where the feelings stopped. He thought you seemed like the physical embodiment of romantic notions, soft and surprising, mysterious with an underlying threat of pain. He wonders who hurt you in such a way and if it was repairable. He corrects his posture and moves the lace curtain away from the window to look out at the setting sun. 

"Genevieve, what am I supposed to tell the boys when they ask why I'm late? Sorry, the Lady was takin' her sweet time gettin' ready 'an I had to wait for her. They can't know I'm waitin' 'round on you, Gen, don't make me look bad darlin'." he's lamenting out the window, seemingly just to hear himself speak and you're standing in the lobby and he's not even noticed you've arrived. 

You're pulling on the black opera length gloves onto your arms as he looks over to you. 

"Fuckin' 'ell." he groans softly, his eyebrows shooting up slowly as his bottom lip hangs slack, exposing his bottom row of teeth. Claire was right to have warned him.

"You told me to dress up," you say in defense of his out of character silence. "So I did." you say, holding your arms out. You're wearing a black, floor-length gown. The top is made of layers of stretching fabric, gathered at the waist, the bottom blooms out just slightly over the swell of your hips in more black layers of chiffon and tulle panels, giving a peak of your legs if you dared to do such a thing. The diamond linked chain ran down the center of your chest, the sapphire pendant hitting just between your breasts. The dress was low cut to perfectly outline the necklace, the lowest point directly below the pendant, the sides cut close so you weren't entirely falling out of your dress. Aggie had deemed showing the inner lines of your breasts too much. Claire had surprisingly approved. On anyone else, the dress wouldn't have looked so suggestive, but because of the size of your chest, these cuts always came across as more scandalous. But you only had to consider your own opinion and you looked stunning and felt generous to the eyes of public tonight. 

His head is shaking back and forth as he walks towards you. "I can't take you to the club lookin' like this now can I?" he says, his arm extending out towards you. "You show up lookin' like this and make every other woman feel inferior and they won't come back after taking a hit to their self-esteem like that, yeah?" he teases, standing with outstretched arms in adoration. You pat his cheek, covered in the beard you'd missed, thickened out again and plush under your gloved fingers. "O that I were a glove upon that hand." he coos at you, his hand moving to cover yours on his face. 

"Ay me, Alfie." your upper lip shows your front teeth, your tongue peeking out just slightly after you rolled out the words in a deep tone. Your voice is scolding but completely overshadowed in an absolutely feminine display of amusement, including you touching your hair as you spoke. "You can stop using that mouth in such a way right now." you say in a sound that could almost be described as a giggle. 

"Nah," he says in a gruff sound, shaking his head down at you. He could tell his words had caught you off guard. He drops his hand from yours to move across your hip to the small of your back as he leans in and kisses your cheek. In the close moments, the heat of him willing your eyes to close, you note how divine he smells. "You look absolutely stunning, sweetheart." he purrs in a way that gives you goosebumps as he pulls away.

"So nice of you to notice," you graciously accept his praise. You reach up to smooth out the collar on his jacket. "You look terribly handsome, don't you?" He gets a good look at you up close, your face surrounded by long hanging pieces of hair, the top half pulled away from your face. Your lashes are long and dark but your lids otherwise bare. A strong brow sets your face with an equally severe dark red lip. "I know to lose your wardrobe had to be difficult but I am loving these new suits," you say, dusting off the sleeve of his black jacket. Your hand trails down his arm to his hand where you inspect his rings. "Still have the one I got you, I see," you smirk.  
"Of course I do, you have exceptional taste, Gen." he speaks softly at you, voice praising you as you work his fingers with yours, his hand looking huge between yours. He's amused by your focused eyes and the ease with which you touched your bare skin to his. 

"I love this one. Is it obsidian?" you ask, you twist a ring on his finger, a huge black stone set in gold. 

"It is." he nods proudly at you, he had been so relieved to find that you weren't just blessed with good taste in jewels but also had a substantial knowledge of them. 

"I love Obsidian," you whisper, letting his hand go, your fingers start to dig through your purse.

"Forged from the fires of hell much like yourself, eh?" he playfully suggests. You let out a hum of agreement, fluffing the fur around your shoulders. You look up and nod with a cheeky smile he's relieved to see holds no sadness at his suggestion. "Especially in this tonight, luv." his voice is low and suggestive and you love his gravel tone when he sees you like this. "If I may ask, what does a succubus do with a man's soul after she takes it?" he lets out a big laugh as you playfully shove his shoulder. 

You take out a sweet and pop it into your mouth. "I use them to become increasingly powerful," you say slowly, your voice deep and rich. "So I can bewitch more and more powerful men each time, taking down each empire as I travel through time," you say with an animated shake of your head, your arms out and moving dramatically. You say it as if it were obvious, as you walk towards the door. "That old chestnut." You offer him a candy and he gives you a judgemental look but takes it and pops it into his mouth. 

"You ever thought of writin' instead of paintin'?" he inquires, watching your lips pucker as you suck on the candy in thought as he pulls back the door, you feel the heat of his hand on your back as you take your time in your heels down the stone steps to the waiting car. His hand holding your elbow out of courtesy as your hold up your long dress. 

"I have. But I much prefer to paint. Writing uses up too much of my brain and painting helps me relax. Well," you huff out a laugh as you walk. "When it's going well it does." you say with a smirk. 

"So your hobbies purposes are to relax?" he asks, you give a casual nod.

"In our line of work I find it critical to have hobbies that can level me out. Without my outlets I can be pushed to behave much like a little girl in a tiara," you say with an amused hum of a laugh at your example. "I'm an adorable pout but don't get near me because I don't know what I want but I do know I love to scream and cry for ANY reason." you laugh at your self-deprecating humor. 

"Little girl in a tiara." he shakes his head with a mischievous grin. "Would you hit me if I said that was a perfect description of your tantrums."

You give his arm a light smack. "Is takin' the piss out of me your hobby?" you ask loudly, your eyes rolling as you adjust your dress. 

"You said it not me, dinnit ya sweetheart?" his appearance is entirely smug and it doesn't seem to fade for the duration of the car ride.  
\-----------  
From the moment he takes your hand to help you out of the car, you don't go without feeling the heat of it on you until you've slid into a booth. He moves you with the gentle suggestion of his hand against your back. It wouldn't have felt so important if your back hadn't been exposed from the cut of your dress. Everyone knows him. Everyone greets him with respect filled nods and he hands out his thanks for coming to them all. When asked who you are, he lets you answer. The only thing he speaks on behalf of you on is saying you were both old friends when asked how you knew each other. You share a glance and the sentiment behind the words as he waits for you to settle into your seat when a man comes up behind him.  
"You have a moment, Mr. Solomons?"

"No. I don't." he says, only giving the man a glance. You don't hide the smirk on your face from the pleasing feeling of being held in importance.

"It's important business, sir." the man says quietly but with a pleading tone. 

"So's this, yeah?" he says, finally turning to him. He sighs after the shorter man just continues to insist. He groans and turns to lean into you, still seated on the edge of the seat of the curved booth. "I'm going to go tell these boys to fuck off, right luv?" he grumbles, his hand resting on your shoulder for a moment. "I'll be right back. Don't go nowhere now." he says with a wink, adjusting his jacket but the collar. He disappears into a hallway and you wait.   
\------------  
He isn't gone long, enough time for you to be brought a drink and have a man who is of no interest to you sit on the other side of the booth. Alfie comes swaying out of the room, clearly miffed as his lip has disappeared under his mustache. 

He can tell you're not enjoying yourself as he stomps towards you, his stance wide as he glares down at the man speaking to you. "Excuse you?" he says, that power you remember from the first night you met him hitting you like waves on the shore. You smile up at him first, then shift your eyes to the man who has just stopped speaking to you. "Ya wanna tell me why ya in my club, sittin' in my booth talkin' to my friends, mate?" he asks, shifting his weight on his feet. 

"I'm sorry Mr. Solomons, I didn't know." he says, with no real respect behind the words, shooting you a dirty glance before slinking away.

"Right." he groans out, his eyes watching the man as he moves away. "He weren't bothering you was he?" he asks, a finger pointed in his direction, a single eyebrow raised.

"No." you say dismissing the idea with a swipe of your hand. 

"Good," he says with a nod, moving towards you. "Scoot on in now." he says, shooing you farther into the booth and you do as requested. 

"Don't want you having to deal with other men when ya out with me. Least I can do to let ya enjoy yerself. Ya deal with that enough wif work." he grumbles out.

"You're being sweet again Alfie, watch yourself." you say in a low warning tone, but delivered with a warm smile. 

"Shall I ruin the illusion?" he gives an entirely naughty look before glancing around the room and leaning back in towards you. "Your tits tonight, woman, holy hell." your mouth opens in a fully playful scoff and your eyes narrow at him. "You sure you didn't need Claire here tonight to wrangle in that crackin' set?" you kick him under the table.

"Alright. Not so sweet now." you say with a dismissive look, rolling your eyes, still laughing. 

"Because I'd be more than willing to help ya out wif that if ya-" you reach down to grab his hand, bending his fingers back towards his arm with a smile and he grunts and frowns at you. "Some fun you are." he says in that gritty tone, now being delivered with a pout.

You look down at his hand before it retreats. You see the roughed up knuckles that weren't there when you left home. You shoot him a knowing glance and he realizes what you've deciphered. "Guess it was urgent business." you infer with a quiet voice.

"It weren't nothin'." he says ending the line of discussion with a more somber look. 

You don't even want to pry, you just enjoy the thought of his ability to go from punishing someone just a few rooms away and back to you with his usual charm so smoothly. 

"What made you want to buy a club?" you inquire, sipping your drink after a few moments of silence.

"Well, it's money innit?" he says with a half smile. 

"You didn't strike me as the type to want a club, but I've been wrong before." you say with a slight shrug.

"It's got its perks. Buying one that's already successful, 'ats how ya do it, yeah? Mix some high end, some low end. Get ya booze 'an music 'n everyone's drunk on the idea of possibility and danger and my product. Makes for willing pockets." he nods. "What about you? You'd be a good owner, floatin' about 'an gettin' all the attention." he gives you one of those more charming smiles he used to disarm you when he would push your buttons with his words.

"I thought about it but it's not for me." you dismiss with a crinkle of your nose. "I'd like to own an art gallery though." you say with little hesitation, he can tell you've thought about this before.

"Ah well that would suit you better wouldn't it?" he nods in agreement.

"Better for hiding money, one would assume," you say casually. "When I'm asked how I make so much money, I can say you can't price art, the viewer is called to pay what the art demands," you say with dramatic flair as if you're delivering the line to this imaginary inquisitor. "Set the price to what you need it to be in the books." you shrug and give a definitive sweep of your hand.

"You always been so good at talkin' your way out of situations?" he says with a teasing tone.

"Does it matter?" you ask, a smile to match his tone. "Have you always been so good at spinning those pretty words, Solomons?" you retort.

"Yes. I have." he says with that charming delivery that makes you want to believe anything he says. You hope he found your charm as disarming as you did his from time to time.  
\----------------------------------  
You settle into your box overlooking the stage. The seats were great, it wasn't where you'd sat the last time you'd been here but you think you'd prefer it over it anyway. You're snuggled into the plush velvet, benched, curtained box. High half walls form a barrier between you and the other audience members. You're mostly hidden as you both sink into the surprisingly cozy space. As you pop another sweet and take out your theater binoculars, you take in the grand three-tiered room. Everything washed in a warm tone from the lights reflections of the gold columns and filigree.

"Have you been here before?" he asks, his knees resting on his elbows, eyes moving over the crowd below.

"I've been here twice previously. My Freddie has come to visit me since I've moved and he's taken me out."

"And who is this Freddie and why is he yours?" he prys, his delivery remaining casual.

"Freddie Weber is a designer and dear friend of mine from Germany."

"How you know him?"

"He's from Berlin and that's where we met when I lived there."

"Lived in Berlin, did ya now?"

"Yeah, before Paris. When I was still very green and pushing myself entirely too far in my pursuit of life's pleasures in my expression of rebelliousness." you hum in amusement at the thought of who you were then. So much could change in such few years. You were at the point in your life now where you were hoping the few years wouldn't bring as much change. You were now seeking out stability for the first time in your life and you still had mixed feelings about your mature approach to the future. "Freddie was around for this wild period and being the indulgent one himself, and that, in addition to fashion and being attracted to men in common we became fast friends." You knew the real answer he was looking for was whether you were sleeping with Freddie. And the question to anyone who knew the man would elicit a booming laugh.

"So even wilder than you are now?" he teases, side-eyeing you with a smug half-smile.

"Alfie, darling, I am a nun compared to who I used to be." you say with an overly charming, rolling, laugh, your hand on his knee out of habitual charm. You continue laughing at yourself, both your hands back in your own lap as the house lights lower. 

He leans in closer to you, whispering. "I'll be askin' you about them wild days later. Ya not off the hook after sayin' all that." You smile but don't look away from the stage, patting his knee.

"Only if I get some of your wild stories." you hold out your free hand, the other holding the binoculars, to him to shake and he lets out a chuckle at you and shakes. "Now shush, you'll make me miss it." you whisper. He retracts his chin at your bossy tendencies as he lets a hint of a smirk stay on his face as he side-eyes you. As the curtain rises it illuminates your face with the swell of the violins. It holds no tension, set so delicately indifferently with your eyes shining and giving away your emotions. At some point, something on the stage pulls his eyes from you. His attention is drawn back to you acts later when you lower your binoculars. He wasn't sure if your lip was trembling or if you were reciting all the words as they were said, but your face was wet with tears regardless. He doesn't even try to stop the small smile that appears on his face watching you giving yourself over to these feelings. It didn't seem like something you did very often, showing your true emotions on your face in such a raw way. He felt as if he was seeing something he shouldn't, and that made it that much harder to look away. As the final scenes play out, on occasion you'd gulp and let out a tiny little, broken gasp as more tears fell. 

He offers you his handkerchief, not saying a word and you let out a tiny huff of a laugh. He knows it's meant for him from the fleeting smile the passes your lips as you take it from him, and with your other hand, take his and pull it towards you. He moves closer, taking his hand away and you let out a grunt, turning to face him to see where he'd went. His hand rests behind you on the seat, he offers you his other hand and you look at it quickly and take it as you dab your face with the other. Both your hands hold his, clasped in your lap, as you watch the stage intensely, your brows and eyes in constant minuscule movements. You let out a ragged sigh at the deaths, while he's watching the stage from behind your head, over your shoulder. He turns to see you one last time as your fingers squeeze into his hand. He knew your nails would leave small red half-crescent moons on his skin but he couldn't bring himself to care. Your lashes flutter, dark and wet over slightly flushed cheeks, gleaming with still wet trails of tears. The emotion from your heavy exhales as you look up for a moment, closing your eyes before returning them to the stage with a shaky inhale. 

You catch him looking at you, turning to face him as he pulls his hand from the grip you still held on it. You expect him to make fun of you. That was the reaction you were accustomed to at this point. But instead, the house lights still low, the stage still covered, he reaches out and wipes away your tears. One side with his thumb, the other the back of his hand.

"I know. It's devastatin' innit, luv?" he says in such a sweet and gentle way it makes your eyelashes flutter in surprise. You nod and swallow. You could swoon at the words in your state, but a sigh escapes instead. You couldn't help but have a fleeting notion that he wasn't talking about the play. 

You turn back and blot your face again as the lights come up. He loses the company of the weeping angel he'd grown so hypnotized by as you clear your throat and he watches that heartbreak fade away from your eyes.


	18. She's Thunderstorms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song is She's Thunderstorms by Arctic Monkeys

He hears raised voices outside of his room, waking him from sleep. He pulls on a shirt and pants, slippers scooted on as he shuffles quickly out of his bedroom towards the sound. 

He see's you, being walked down the hall, a maid on each arm holding you. His eyes dart around, taking in the scene. One maid is crying by the front door, your car still open and running visible through the wide open door as he hurries towards you. 

Aggie's leading the way, door open to your wing, barking orders at the younger maids. 

"Gen, what's happened?" he calls out as he gets within arms reach of you, he mumbles an excuse to the maid on one of your arms as he pushes her away to replace her. The weight being taken off your beaten up body was immediate and earned a groan of relief from you. You stop and he moves to hold you up by your ribs and you gasp and let out a shrill whine at the touch and he holds you as you choose to lean into him instead. 

"Get me to my bed." you whisper out with shallow breaths. 

"I'm gonna scoop ya up, luv. It'll hurt just a moment, yeah?" he says as he's bending you carry you under your knees and back and sit you slowly on your bed. "Can ya tell me what happened?" he requests politely, masking his desperation for information. A swarm of maids, warm cloth's and bandages in hand push him away and he bumps against your vanity. 

"Two men attacked me." you say after shushing the maids and parting them with a shaky arm, motioning for him to come closer. He can hear you wheeze as he stands directly behind a maid taking off your dress. 

"Weren't Jacks with you?" he asks, an anger burning at the thought he hadn't done his job. 

"He was." you emphasize the latter word, groaned through clenched teeth.

"Where was he during this then?" he says in a rushed voice.

"Well you don't see him here with me so what do you think happened?" you state in an obvious tone, letting out a small sigh.

He answers you with silence. Realizing this meant he was dead.

"I managed to get him in the car. They shot him in the head. It's a bloody mess." you say as your voice inflects and squeaks, pausing for moans and groans as you're left in your underwear as the damage to your body is unveiled. You can see the red and purple marks blotched across your thighs, you know it's worse on your torso and you don't even want to look. You continue the painful task of breathing. It wasn't just your ribs that burned, your lip that felt very split stung with every movement, you were assuming the hit to your face would be translating into a black eye after the amount of time that had passed. He's made his face stone, keeping it focused on yours, you can feel the anger coming off of him. It's not meant for you. 

"You moved that big boy all by yourself?" he asks, his brow furrowed.

"I'm stronger than I look." your voice strained and heard through clenched teeth as your body is examined by multiple sets of hands to assess your injuries.

"I'd be inclined to fuckin' agree," he says in astonishment. You let out a helpless yelp that makes his chest ache. "Don't think about what they're doing and it won't hurt so bad. Look at me, Gen." he holds your hand. "Tell me what happened." his eyes are calm as they look into yours with intent. 

"They shot Jacks after he drew on them. Only one had a gun, I knocked it away and went hit for hit," you explain, crying out again, your face tense, eyes shut, breathing through your flared nostrils. "Got me down and kicked the absolute shit out of me." your voice is higher pitched in your anger. "I got my knife and got them," you groan, teeth together "le connard." you growl out in anger born from the pain you found yourself in.

"They're dead?" he asks, his hand rubbing yours. 

"Ils sont morts?" you mock him in misdirected anger. "Quelle question stupide!" you groan out. "Of course they're dead!" you shout out in frustration, grinding your teeth. His face, full of pity frowns down at you. "Their papers are in the car somewhere, I took what they had on 'em. Didn't take the time to look at who it was." 

"I'll get 'em, Gen, don't even worry about that right now." he says quietly, his tone set to not upset you.

You nod and exhale with a whine. "I have to get this fuckin muck from the canal off me," you say in angry growl. "If I'm not fuckin' dying can I just have a bath and sleep this off? I just want to get this horse shit over with," you say, pulling your hand from his, pushing maids away. "This is going to hurt like a mother fucker tomorrow." you say already exasperated, your lip snarled in annoyance.

"Your ribs are bruised something awful, child. Those boots got you most everywhere, but nothing seems irreparable. Your cuts are all superficial, this is going to hurt like hell for a little bit but you'll be fine if you rest." Aggie says with the hesitancy of delivering the news to you.

"Just get out then." you groan."I need a bath and some tea after and to fucking sleep then you call a doctor for tomorrow. In that order." you look up at the maids still not moving. "What are you waiting for? Fucking GO!" you shout, your bloody and busted hands in fists. 

"You know I ain't being cheeky when I ask if you need me to help you, right?" he asks, having backed away just slightly as everyone left the room but Aggie, coming from the bathroom after drawing your bath. 

"Some fucked fever dream dalmatian I've let myself get turned into." he can tell you're only mad at yourself right now, your eyes looking over your arms and legs. The body language you'd been holding strong for the view of everyone else had gone. You were now slumped, eyes barely open as you spoke in hushed words. 

"I know Aggie can get you up but that don't mean she should, yeah?" he asks, moving back closer to you. 

"I'm entirely too exhausted to act like I don't need the help." you admit with words even though your body language had already admitted defeat, You look up at him, resembling a sad stray kitten. "Now that everyone else is out of earshot." you let a small grin come across your face as you move your weight to your feet and one of his hands moves to your back. 

"You sure, sweetheart?" Aggie asks, pushing your hair off your face. 

"We're both adults Aggie. I'm not the first woman he's seen naked before, I'm sure he'll behave himself." you huff out in teasing of her concerns. "I went and pushed myself too damn hard with draggin' Jacks and drivin' to get here and I can barely fucking function." you confess with closed eyes.   
"My heads full of angry marbles. My ribs feel like boa constrictors trying to kill me." you groan out weakly, letting yourself feel some pity for the situation you found yourself in. "I need someone strong to move me about and our Alfie here just so happens to be just that." you say your head tilting up at him. "What ya say?" you ask humorously with tired eyes.

"Oh you know I've been dying to get ya naked, haven't I Genny?" he jokes with you, moving to pick you up as you move your arm over his shoulders.  
You let out a very loud cry of pain and small gasps as you plead with him.

"For fuck's sake don't make me laugh Alfie you absolute wanker!" you squeak out, tensing in his arms.

"I'm sorry, luv. You're proper banged up aren't ya?" he says, showing his distaste for the fact in his voice.

You nod and moan when you exhale. "Near fucking pulverized." 

Aggie clasps her hands together in front of her as she watches him carry you, already forgetting she was in the room. She sighs with optimism and hesitancy to your willingness for nudity around the man, but since your childhood, you'd never found nudity to be an issue for you, and you certainly weren't the bashful type. 

You're naked and you've gotten your feet in the tub, which is half the battle. He's holding your upper arms, you have your head against his chest, your hands loosely gripping his shirt at his sides.

"Ya got it?" he asks after your loud noises of pleasure and protest were sobbed against his chest at the feeling of the hot water against your battered body.

"No." you whisper, shaking your head without lifting it up. "My legs are cramping, can you lower me in?" you ask your voice raspy and strained, your head pulling back but not looking at him, your eyes bloodshot and hidden behind mascara smudged lids. Your split lip was pouted out against clenched teeth as your brow knitted in pain. Your hands settled on his chest for support.

"'Course." he says softly, taking your elbow to move to the end of the bath and letting your hands on the lip of the tub, his arms, rocks under yours as he took in all your noises of pain as his face, pressed against the side of your head. He shushed and praised you gently as you sobbed and moaned, getting caught in the cycle of pain and trying to recover from it. As he finally feels your body lessen it's tensioning as his forearms rest in the water, now being held against yours, your hands on his wrists squeezing as the pain came and went as you moved. In the few moments he allows himself to close his eyes while you breathe in gasps, the only noise in the room, he can't help but want to hear these sorts of sounds coming from you in a different set of circumstances. He pushes back the thought, a moment of weakness that had snuck up on him from the heightened emotions of the night. He returns to the task at hand. You'd helped him so much, he knew he was in no position to deny you if you asked for his help. He hadn't found being in your debt to be a bad thing thus far.

"Let me lean my head back on the tub for a bit," you instruct as he slowly pulls away. "Thank you." you whisper. Your wet, trembling hands rubbing your face. 

"Think nothin' of it," he says, his hands in his pockets as he stands over the tub. "You need me to stay in here?" he asks, his finger pointing the floor. "Or you want me to wait while you-?" he drags out the word, his thumb pointing to your bedroom.

"Just get a chair from my room," you say, your shoulders rolling. "I'll need help with my hair." you say, your wet lashes fluttering as the color came back to your face slowly. 

He does as you suggest and settles as you rest. He can't see under the water from where he sat. Although you were curled up in a way that wouldn't have allowed him to see much if he had been willing to be the type of man to try such a thing in this situation. The type of man who wasn't already overstimulated by the visual of you running your hands slowly down your neck, a quiet moan of discomfort escaping from your parted lips as your head tilted back on the lip of the tub. But what man wouldn't be, he thought. The contented sinking into fantasy wasn't even entertained as an option as your fingertips, now showing their paint that was hidden under the muck and real blood, cascading in light sweeping motions across your neck, checking the demented sunset of bruises that were concentrated in a ring at the base of your throat, moving delicately down, exploring the mixture of violent colors that were appearing on your skins surface. 

"You find yourself getting hurt like this often?" he asks, voice not holding any judgment.

"No, I do not. Which makes it that much worse. Both in body and mind." you say with a sigh, picking underneath your fingernails. 

You both turn to the doorway as you hear your bedroom door open and the quick-hitting sound of feet moving across the floor in your direction. Claire stands in a full glamourous dress, eyes wide and breathing fast. 

"They told me you were hurt." she says, looking over to Alfie and back to you over and over again.

"I am but don't worry, Alfie is being a good boy and helping me move since I find myself not being able to do it on my own. Not what with the boots I've taken tonight." he gives a polite nod to Claire, his arms crossed, elbows on his knees. "I'll be in the bed for a few days at least but I'll be fine." you explain with a lazy half smile.

"So you are..." her hand, open and moving back and forth at the two of you. "You're okay here then? You need anything?" she asks in a rushed voice, Alfie had never seen Claire's face to be so expressive as her worry was worn so clearly. 

"Cancel the appoints for next week. Adjust our security accordingly for a hit attempt, check that none of the new hires are the problem, get the papers out of the car. Make sure anything that needs to be done for Jacks is done because he's dead." you instruct calmly. Alfie blinks slowly as you list off the things to be done so articulately, your eyes shut but moving underneath the lids as your thoughts rushed to cover all your bases.

"Okay." she nods, processing the information. "I can do that." Just let me know what else you need tomorrow, alright?" she asks, only looking at you.

"I'm fine, go on." you shoo her away, turning your head to Alfie after you hear the click of your door close. "Help me with my hair?" you ask with a slow, lazy blink. 

He can't help but admire your level-headed reaction to this situation. He could see why you were so good at your job if this is how you handled a death of an employee from an assassination attempt on you. He couldn't help but be hit with the fact as to how lucky he was to have someone like you on his side, both professionally and personally. You'd handled the events of the evening better than the men he'd seen go through the same. With you laying so completely at ease around him alone and so unabashedly naked, he can't help but be enchanted by the calm and confidence that you emit. 

You slink beneath the water, mess of hair and all, as he pulls the chair across the tiled floor, sitting behind your head. You emerge and his hands are waiting on the lip of the tub for your return. 

He reaches over and grabs your bottle of shampoo after you gesture in its direction. You make a disgusted sound as you pick chunks of dirt from hair and toss them towards the other end of the bathtub.

His fingers dive in, sudsy and busy as they move around your hairline and you see the water start to get murkier. You let out a moan that isn't from pain, your head lolling on your shoulders as you hear him let out a chuckle at you. "C'est mieux que le sexe." you mumble, your lips making bubbles in the water before letting your head fall back at his hand's suggestion, pushing your forehead back. "Yes mains sont magiques." you praise.

"Good?" he asks, his voice full of amusement, you assumed his face was full of the same but you kept your eyes closed as he washed out your hair. You wished you found yourself in this position when you weren't made entirely of bruises and tenderness, letting yourself enjoy the feeling, you felt like you'd earned it. 

"Oui." you say with a soft smile. He's sucking his teeth at you, shaking his head at how at ease you seemed to be. Not quite knowing how to feel about it. 

"That's got ya finished, luv." he swipes stray bubbles away from your face. 

You sit back up slowly, hands gripping the edge of the tub. "Let's get this over with." you groan, bracing yourself to be lifted again. 

"Rise out of the muck little lotus, c'mon now." he says with a grunt as he hoists you up too quickly for your delicately balanced inner ear.

"Hold me close a moment." you whisper with eyes shut.

"I think it's hardly the time sweetheart." he teases, holding steadily for you as your head spun. 

"You're lucky I'm incapacitated you cheeky fucker." you scold, nose scrunched slightly.

You weigh against his chest, his other arm grabbing a towel and wrapping you up carefully after your head stops spinning. "Put your weight on this chair while I go fetch your gown now, yeah?" he moves the chair to your hand and he moves so smoothly, laying it on the back of the chair, removing the towel and squeezing your hair, letting the gown fall over you, moving your hair for you again. 

"Hand me the hair ribbon." your voice comes in sighs from your exhaustion, knowing you still had to get to and in bed. He pulls a black textured ribbon off the sink and hands it to you. "Wouldn't happen to know how to braid hair, would you?" you ask slowly, a smirk on your face as he holds a hand to your shoulder and stomach to keep you from falling as you separated your hair to braid it.

"'Fraid not sweetheart. Sisters never taught me that one." he says with a warm smile that makes you slowly blink, taking pleasure in anything that came your way as you couldn't remember the last time you'd been in so much pain. 

"No matter." you yawn cautiously as you braid your hair into two sections. You wince and moan, small shallow breaths as you raise your arms to twist the strands back and wrap them in ribbon securing them back. You exhale noisily and slowly as you lower your arms.

"Carry ya to bed?" he asks, looking down at you, his face has fallen again, but his eyes still looked at you with fondness despite their pity you didn't want. 

You begin to raise your arms towards him and give him a nod as your eyes are closed before your face even lands against him. 

He lays you on the bed, his frown changes to a subtle smile as your pained moans turn to happy mewls as you let yourself settle into the pillows he'd just fluffed.

"Never had anything so soft hurt so much." you say in a whisper, your face relaxing.

"It alright?" his voice a bit louder, more insistent.

"Oh, yes I'll be fine. I'm only whingin'." you dismiss with a scrunch of your nose.

"You sure? You took on two men trying to kill you tonight, sweetie. You watched your man get shot and all that on top of being badly hurt yourself. 'At's a lot on anyone, 'at is." he speaks slowly, thoughtfully. 

"I'll recover. Not the first or last time I'll lose a man and have someone try to kill me." you say light-heartedly, taking a slow breath, your eyes fluttering shut gently for a moment. 

"Ya sure? Ya ain't gotta put the big face on for me, do ya now?" he says gently rubbing your hand. 

"I'm more worried about the physical pain right now. The rest will come with time." you reply softly, with a less enthusiastic smile but he knew it was genuine. 

"Well that's a right smart way to deal with it, innit it?" he praises, giving your hand a small squeeze before he retreats. "I'll have 'em send in yer tea, luv." his voice hushed and warm. 

"Nah, I'm fuckin' knackered." you say with a shake of your head. 

"Have it your way." you says with a pleasant inflection, he moves to stand up straight and begin to leave. Your hands grab his fingers, slumping him slightly as you pull him towards you.

"Thank you." you say with a small hesitant smile. 

"What was I gonna do, not help you?" he says with a grin, his chin extended at you, moving back and forth. "Don't act dull." he suggests, pointing his free hand at you. 

"Look, I have no issue admitting when I'm hurt and I am very hurt right now. So I'll need your assistance from time to time over the next few days. Not to the degree of tonight but-" you pause with a frown. "Consider it a preemptive thanks because once I'm able to move around on my own I'll be back to being an annoyance instead of burden and you will be so sick of me by that point that you won't be within earshot for me to thank you." you grin, squeezing his fingers.

"Eh, we both know that ain't true," his voice is warm and his face is kind and it makes your chest ache with the invisible weight you feel from it. "You gone and taken care of me so it's my turn now innit? Gotta look out for each other now, don't we?" he says in a warm tone that makes your worry about asking him for help falter. "So whatever you need you just let me know, yeah?" he gives your thigh a gentle pat. 

You grunt in response. 

"You want me to bring ya those little round pastries of mine ya like, eh? That cheer ya up?"

"Now you're spoiling me." you give him a smile that fades into a bitten lip fast as you almost laugh at his words. 

"Eh." he says, shrugging and moving his head. "You're a good girl Gen, you deserve to get spoiled from time to time, yeah?" he says with another kind smile, making you pout slightly. He waits for a response from you that doesn't come. "I didn't hear a no on those pastries." a charming grin shoots across his face. 

"Of course I want 'em, ya silly bastard!" you exclaim in a playful snarl.

"Oi! There she is." he says with enthusiasm, brushing back hair from your face. "I think ya gonna be just fine, Genny bee." he moves to switch off your lamp. "You get your sleep. Ya little bell is by the bed there, yeah?" he grabs your foot, covered by your blanket, shaking it just slightly on his way out of the room. "I'll see ya in the morning, won't I?" he muses, padding towards the door and shutting off the light.

"Fanks." you grumble out as the darkness makes your eyes suddenly incredibly heavy.


	19. Show Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song is Show Me by Dan Auerbach

 

 

 

Your yawn and very noisy stretch are interrupted by a newspaper hitting you as it's tossed onto the table in front of you.

"You see this?" Alfie asks with a strange urgency, sitting in the chair next to you, tapping one pointed finger, large bauble atop it at an article you were already familiar with in the Business and Agricultural section of the paper.

You settle your hands back in your lap, nodding at him slowly with sleepy eyes. "Mmm Hmm." you say with a bird-like melodic delivery, an indifferent pleasant expression on your face. The medicine you'd been given by the doctor had left you sleeping your life away like a cat Much like an actual kitten, lying about and looking fuzzy and soft just the same with your unkempt hair.

"How long have you known?" he exclaims, his hand motioning at you with an attitude.

"I had assumed as much after I persuaded my biggest competitor to sell me their business." you look over at him, shoulders slumped and face slightly dazed from sleep and medication.

"This isn't something you'd think to share?" his chin drops, inquiring with words and the look in his eyes.

You shrug, your mouth in a thoughtful pouted pose. "I suppose...since I did the work it didn't feel like a big deal. My day to day hasn't changed drastically since so it's easy to fall back and forget such things when you're under the influence of heavy medication," you say with a slight shake of your head in elaboration. "Didn't want to go braggin' anyway. I saw the article came out but I've been down so I haven't been up for celebrating in my usual manner." you explain, face back to warm and easy going as it swings back his way.

"Number one producer and seller in all of fuckin' London is something you can brag about dear. Especially to me. I mean I'm fuckin' impressed." he says enthusiastically, his hands moving at you in praise. As he speaks, a smile slowly grows across your face.

"You are?" your face shifts into a bashful smile he's not seen before. The reactionary and less thoughtful Gen was becoming something he's very aware that he'll miss once you healed up and you weren't a kitten version of your usual jungle cat form.

"Of course I am! Aren't you?" he almost shouts, a warm smile on his face, eyes wide and brows raised at you as his faces leaned closer to yours with an expression of genuine care for your thoughts on the subject.

You look down as a smile hits your lips. It spreads and you look back over, biting your lip before admitting with a drawn-out "Yeah."

"'Course you are. You should be." he holds your chin gently as he speaks purposely at you. He retreats his hand, "Shame you're hurt." he says, chewing the inside of his cheek for a moment in thought before his eyes return to you. Still sitting, slouched and soft in your big chair. "This calls for a celebration." he says with his grumpy thinking face. "Can't smoke cigars what with your ribs 'n all. Don't want ya accidentally coughin' and breakin' in half, do we?" he muses, his hand patting yours.

"If I'm still on top once I'm healed, perhaps?" you suggest with a slow chuckle, your eyes blinking slowly as the sweet smile of your pride lingered on your lips.

"I'll figure somefin' out." he nods, looking around the room.

"You don't have to-" you say, your nose scrunched at his fussing.

"I know I don't gotta but I wanna Gen, so I'm gonna, yeah?" he says definitively with a playful nod and expression.

"Sounds like you." you say with an almost dumb laugh that moves your chest when you raise your shoulders to accompany a teasing, cheesy smile.  
\-----------------------------  
Alfie has been gone for over a week. Thankfully for both of you, he returns in time for Shabbat dinner and you get to spend the entire evening catching up. He sat bottles of wine down on the dinner table when he'd rolled in to join everyone. He'd managed to bring you a bouquet of lavender.

"Lad at the counter thought I was mad for ordering nothing but lavender." he explains, shaking his head as the familiar brown paper crinkles under your hands and the smell hits your nose and you let out a small moan at the olfactory triggered memories. "But you talk about that French lavender from ya home being so much better than ours here and well, I just had to bring you home some, dinnit I?"

You kiss his cheek and he seems thoroughly pleased with himself from the grin he's directing at you. "Thank you, Alfie." you go back to a pleasant closed mouth smile. "They're perfect, ya big sweetie." you softly sigh as you hold the bouquet like a baby.

You saw him tucked away with Aggie in the scullery, giving her a bottle of some alcohol she couldn't find around here and a small book. She practically swooned and kissed his cheek, patting his face and you knew you wouldn't hear the end of what a wonderful husband and provider Alfie would make for at least the next week.

Now you're sitting on his bed in his room, discussing the pleasure side of his trip, as he seems like he felt a bit chatty about it. Maybe it was the wine and tiredness. He's asked you if you'd had the meals he'd had on his trip before, if you'd seen a particular type of flower he'd seen because they were "bloody everywhere" as he exclaimed. As you yawn, he clasps his hands together and turns to a trunk and brings out a box.

"I got ya somefing." he announces, his head dipping as he approached you to sit next to you on the bed.

You don't respond, you just face him with a very endearing smile.

"I happened to be in a jewelry shop, yeah?" he side-eyes you with a cheeky grin as he sees you bite the bait he's set with vigor. "I know you weren't up for celebratin' but I saw this and knew it were put in my path so it'd find it's way to you, right?" he beams at you, the charm coming from his genuine enthusiasm instead of wolfish smiles.

You just can suppress your excitement and it doesn't go unnoticed by him. You place the box in your lap and bite your lip in anticipation as you lift the lid of the soft black silk covered box. Inside sits a necklace. A delicate gold linked chain, holding a gemstone encrusted bee. "Holy hell." you say breathlessly, your mouth open and your hand to your chest, not being capable of hiding the lust in your wide eyes. The yellow gold stripes were covered in circular topaz, the black portions made the same shapes in onyx each colored part separated with tiny pearls, it's eyes of black opals that made you swallow noisily. The entire body delicately laid in gold wiring underneath diamond covered wings. "Are you fucking kidding me?" you inquire with an open mouth, not looking at him.

"I saw it and I knew it was meant to be yours. The timing couldn't of better, yeah?" he pulls the lid back so he can see the piece more clearly. "Couldn't leave without it, could I?" his face beaming down at you, still wide-eyed over the gift.

"This is..." you sigh out in a huff. "It's perfect." you place the pendant in your palm and whine at the heaviness of it. How expensive was this thing? Did he steal it? Did it matter? "It's more than a necklace, it's a work of art." you practically moan. "I know gifts can act as proposals in your religion," you dip your voice and layer it in tease as you smile suggestively at him. "Are you trying to seduce me with this, Alfie?" you purr, lifting your eyes to his, a devastatingly charming smile on your face.

"'Course not, Genevieve." he says with an exaggerated head shake and frowns with an animated insistence. "The thought has not crossed my mind," he says with a dismissive hand gesture that moves to his chin, drawing your attention to his now mischievous grin. "Not no more than five, ten times." he adds in a smug tone.

Your expression shifts to match his mischievousness. "Clever, cheeky, charmer, you." you say scrunching your nose at him in a laugh. "I thought the number of times would be much higher, honestly." you tease, looking back at the bee, distraction appears in your eyes again quickly.

"I've wondered what this looks like on you for a week now, c'mon." he says with a chuckle, taking it from you and standing. You move to the mirror on a vanity in his room. He stands out of frame after clasping the necklace shut for you, his arms across his chest, one hand rubbing his beard. "I'm so good at what I do I amaze even meself." he says with a nod of pride.

"It's bloody brilliant." you say, your posture correct, your fingers delicately dragging across your chest and shoulders as you look at the piece.

"It was made for you, wasn't it, sweetheart?" he asks rhetorically.

"I have to plan an outfit around this." you state with laid-back enthusiasm, holding up parts of your hair, already planning hairstyles. "Fuck me, now I have to go to these posh business events and show it off, don't I?" you say it like it's a bad thing but you have a cheeky smile on your face. "I have a portrait painting coming up soon I might just wear this." you say, leaning back, impressed by your own idea. "Ohhh." you express your enjoyment of the idea. "That would look so good in my office." you state with hunger in your words. You swing your face towards Alfie, who is biting the tip of his thumb at you. "Chime in anytime, Solomons." you laugh and rest your hands on your waist in a pose.

"I'm happy that you're happy with it Genevieve." he says with a dashing expression. "You look a proper titled Lady now, don't ya? Well suited since ya runnin' London and all now, eh?" he gives you a wink, his hands rubbing your arms as his face nears your shoulder. You roll your eyes at the playful suggestion. "It couldn't look better on anyone else, luv. Now you look like the posh business woman you are." he voice border lining sweet and predatory, his taller form framing yours in the mirror as you bask in the high of gifts, attention and the way he was taking in the sight of you. The look in his eyes holds the same fondness that yours did for the image reflected in the mirror. Your gazes meet abruptly, causing an unexpected connection in the tension filled moments. Neither of you prove brave enough to hold the stare for very long.


	20. No You Girls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song is No You Girls By Franz Ferdinand.

 

 

 

 

You had been invited out tonight for a hit on a club. When Alfie had asked you who you'd suggest hiring to help fight your way in, you could tell by the way his lip disappeared under his mustache when you said your Arthur and the Shelby's were your go to's, that he wasn't exactly sold on the idea himself. But after telling him no one fought with you better, he reluctantly trusted your choice. You were to be handsomely compensated for your skills which would be out in full form tonight. You'd been excited and nervous as the date approached for the job, but now that you were walking in through the back entrance of the club as it was closing, to sneak the door keys and bring them back and wait in the car for your targets to arrive, you felt back in your element.

The director of this group of painfully mediocre wannabes just so happened to be the man who had tried to fuck Alfie over that you had helped steal the blackmail for. Now you found yourself in a position of immunity from the blackmail working like a dream. He can't report the hit, Alfie gets the last word. Everyone who mattered was happy. Alfie still having bones left to pick with this man and since you were involved already, he brought you in as your addition would make the night go much more smoothly, he suggested. He was taking part in this fight, as it felt it was personal at this point. Saying that he needed the opportunity to blow off some steam as well, like old times.

You're slinking across the street in your long, off the shoulder dress. Hidden split up each thigh for ease of movement hugged your curves in thin, soft red fabric to accommodate the summer's heat. Your makeup, the usual dark eye, and red lip, your hair pulled back at the nape of your neck so it wouldn't interfere with your sight or movement. You were very much dressed to kill.

Tommy and Alfie are sitting in the second row of the benched back seats of the large Rolls Royce watching you walk away in the direction of the club.

Alfie's nose twitches, readjusting his grip on his cane. Tommy had lost count of how many times he'd done this. Solomons was moving enough to almost be deemed twitchy. Tommy looks back over to the newspaper he's been skimming while they wait for your return.

"Do you not trust her to do her job?" Tommy asks in his even, cool tone.

"Eh?" Alfie gruffs, looking over at Tommy with a furrowed brow. "I wouldn't've hired her if I dinnit." he says obviously, one hand moving off his cane to express himself.

"Then can you stop fidgeting?" Tommy hides a small half smile with a slight tilt of his head as Alfie leans away from him in a pout. "You've worked with her on jobs before, haven't you? Or are you always this nervous when it comes to her?" he doesn't hide the smirk on his face from his words.

"I 'ave but none this dangerous." he states, thumbing his nose.

"From that statement I take it you've not seen Gen fight before have you?" his eyebrow rising in interest.

"I saw 'er at The Garrison." he offers.

"No that wasn't a fight." Tommy shakes his head. "I mean in the sort of spot you'll find yourselves in tonight." he clarifies, slowly turning his head towards Alfie who's enjoyed the subtle puzzlement on his friends face.

"No." he says, his hand punctuating his sentence with a wag. "But I did see her come home after getting the shit beat out of her by two men a few weeks back." he says with a bad attitude. "So forgive me if I'm hesitant to let her loose on her own."

"Is she your's to let loose now?" he says with implication.

"Don't be fuckin' daft Tommy." he growls. "But I'm the one hirin' her ain't I? She wouldn't be back out doing this so soon if I hadn't asked her to." he elaborates.

"Gen knows her limits, she wouldn't take a job if she thought she couldn't deliver."

"I'd be inclined to believe that." he solemnly nods.

"How's living with her going?" he breaks the silence growing in the car.

"Well you know." he pauses for a moment, "Place is fuckin' huge, innit? She's lovely. Good girl, very hospitable." he says with a firm nod of his head, still looking out the window in the direction you should appear.

"She is." he nods, looking back to his paper.

"She's never boring is she?" he says in a tone that tells Tommy he's become well acquainted with your big personality.

"Not in the years I've known her," he says with a small smile. "I heard you took her out to the Opera?" his voice full of suggestion

"She asked me to," he says with a hint of defensiveness. "What was I gonna do? Say no?" he lets out a gruff laugh.

"So you weren't taking her out?" his question inflects with interest at the end.

"No, mate. Weren't nothin' like 'at." he shakes his head as the words groan out.

"Nothing like that?" he insists.

"If there is from her end, I'm not aware of it." he plainly states, motioning out with his hand. "That is if she is in fact as affectionate with her good friends as she says she is." he pauses, places his hand on the other man's knee, leaning towards him with a look that is supposed to signify he's being impressive, "Which apparently we are now. Just so ya know, mate." He nods as if in sympathy towards Tommy's defeat. "So she has said to me, yeah?" he returns back to his normal sitting position.

"Good friends, eh?" he says with a subdued expression of amusement that would have been visible if it hadn't been dark outside.

"But she ain't like 'at wif you? Is she?" he says, his finger pointing out at Tommy, side-eyeing him.

"She has never been," he says, his face back to indifferent. "She is that way with Arthur and John. Arthur specifically."

"Why not you?" wondering if he'd done something to make her not want to be as close to him.

Tommy swallows before he speaks. "I've always assumed it's because she was a friend of Grace's." he says, the usual micro-lilt of her name as he forces it out of his mouth.

"Ah." he nods in agreement. "Now that would make sense, yeah." he ponders it a moment before quickly moving back to his questions. "Her and Arthur seem strangely close what with how she talks about 'im, what's the story wif 'at 'n all?"

"They're not fucking if that's what you're asking." he says with a bit of a tired drag to the words.

"That's not what I said, Tommy." he says a bit with the hint of offense.

"No but it's what you meant, wasn't it?" he says knowingly. Alfie gives him a strong side eye after turning his head from his direction. After a few moments of Alfie's silent treatment, he continues, "I believe they talk about art mostly. They're both very good to have on your side in a fight and they're both also very emotional. Seems that makes a friendship these days." he says with a short sigh.

"Well that checks out, dunnit?" he mumbles, still looking out the window.

"Seein' as he's married 'n she's watchin' the kid 'n all." he clarifies to himself mostly. "She didn't seem like the type of woman who'd do that sorta fing." he says more quietly, his eyes narrowing in consideration.

"She isn't." he agrees flatly. "She's a good woman, Alfie." he adds with more sincerity, nodding his head as he looks over his paper.

"It's hard to believe she's as good as she is, Tommy." he admits, his voice not showy, his hands not moving. "Hard to believe there are any women left like 'at all."

Tommy's eyes slowly look up and forward, taking in his words and what they told him about how he felt. "It is very hard to believe." he quietly agrees. They both sat in silence with heavy thoughts about the women on their minds.  
\----------------------------------------  
Tommy leaves the car, going to a street over to wait for John and Arthurs signal that all the men had all arrived. You're turned around in your seat, on your knees. Your forearms crossed on the back of the seat, facing Alfie.

"What's wrong with you tonight?" you ask, your eyes narrowing as he keeps his eyes on Tommy leaving. "You've been acting odd." you pry with a tilted head.

He turns his eyes your way for a moment, before moving them back out the window. "What are you on about?" he huffs out.

"I know you Alfie, I can tell when something's off." you hum at him, resting your chin on your arms. "What is it about me that's throwing you off tonight? Let's fix it before we get in there bc I don't want it distracting me." you insist with a nod of your head.

"Well you were beat all to hell not that long ago, weren't ya?" he bites a little too harshly at you, looking back at you. You give him an attitude-filled glare.

"So you think I shouldn't be doing this." you say with a slow nod, pursing your lips in disappointment. You sit back up, lifting your chin from your arms.

"Don't be puttin' words in me mouth." he says, shaking his finger at you. "That's not what I said now, was it?" he lets his shoulders fall as they'd tensed while he spoke.

"Fear born from worry, then?" your expression softens as you stop your attempt to turn away from him. Your eyes aren't defensive when he meets them again.

"Now I just told ya not to do that, dinnit I?" he looks back out the window. No longer revving up, his face was set in an angry sort of pout.

"I'm a big girl, I can handle it, Alfie. Don't worry about me. Worry about yourself." you say poking him in the chest, limp-wristed and playful. "Look on the bright side." you offer which a much more subdued and charming expression, "This is the only time you'll ever be nervous for me before a fight because once you see me in there, you'll apologize for having doubted me." you give a challenging grin.

"Now there. That." he points at you. "That's the woman I hired for this tonight. You. Now?" he taps your nose and you can't help but roll your eyes at him. "You. Stay." you commands gruffly and you smile at his playfulness.

"You'll get your money's worth out of me tonight, Solomons, don't worry." you say with a cutesy wink, throwing your head back in a laugh as you turned around in the seat. His eyes give a very slow blink your direction, his head shaking back and forth with a deadpan face at you before you've even turned.  
\--------------------------------------------  
The signals are cleared. Everything is in place. Now it's on you to make the first move. Arthur and John are clearing the front guards and the lobby. Alfie clears out the guard in the back. Tommy is the controller, watching outside and making sure no one leaves or enters during the fight. You'd snuck in from the roof. You take a very deep breath, feeling it move through every part of you. You initiate the distraction.

Your heels clack loudly in the most empty club. A large room with hanging chandeliers, huge columns separated a dance floor with an ornately designed ceiling above it. The boys, numbering around fifteen to twenty, all greased up are spread out around a few pushed together tables in the dance floor. Some notice you slink across the landing before your heel hits the stone of the first step, but after that, all eyes were on you. They don't speak for a few steps, you're prim and posh and have all things you hold in your charming arsenal of distraction at full volume. The hit of your metal tipped heels echoes across the cavernous room as they move slowly across the floor to the men. You hear the murmurs begin.

"I think you're in the wrong place, lady." one of them says, this is the one that's just put the target on his head. Lucky boy.

"Quite the contrary," your voice is smooth and velvety, your face set like you know a secret no one else does. "I believe I'm exactly in the right place." you-you laugh, moving one shoulder with the sound, one hand to your chest. The mood shifts slightly in the room. Bait set.

"Oh are ya sweetheart?" he chimes in. You stand between them, still turned away from the back exit.

"You're here aren't you?" you say with a wink as you put your hands on your hips. He gives you a dumb laugh in retort.

"Oh you here for me, doll?" he asks, leaning back in his seat.

"I greeted her first, she's mine." the original speaker almost growls at you, his hand rubbing up and down the back of your thigh.

"Oh I'm here for all of you, handsome." you give a cheeky grin, jutting your hip out in his direction. "Me and my friends were sent here to entertain you boys tonight." you say, putting your shawl around his shoulders. "But I happen to be the first to get here and I'm not one to keep a party from starting."

"That right? he says, looking you over and licking his lips.

"Something about a celebration I'm told? A little something," you shimmy your chest at him with the word, "for a job well done?" you say with warm praise.

"Told ya he wouldn't be mad." the second speaker adds in a defensive tone.

"Guess so." the boy with his hands on your thighs says. "What are you planning on entertaining us with tonight, luv?" his fingers grip into the soft flesh under your ass.

"I'm known for my dances." you purr at him.

"You reckon I could get the first one of those?" he suggests, leaning closer and smelling you.

"Thought you'd never ask." you whisper leaning in close, your prominent breasts in his face. "Turn this seat," you say with a kitten like delivery. He raises himself and does as you command. "Now, sit back." you bat your lashes, your hand pushing him back into the chair.

You loom over him like a vulture, taking a moment to look for the men you'd come with tonight. You see Arthur and stretch, letting him know you've seen him. You don't see Alfie yet so, you continue. "You'll all get your chance tonight to dance," you announce to the group, you move back to the boy in the chair. "and I never disappoint." you coo as you push his knees together, standing on either side of them. "But it is much better one on one. Don't you think?" you tilt your head and ask almost innocently.

"Anyfing you say, darlin'." he says in a chuckle, hands already on your hips. You sink down on him, hands rising above you in and inhale, grinding against him on the exhale. You hitch up your dress, sliding your knife into your hand as you raise it. You look up to Arthur as you lean in close to the boy's ears. He gives a nod and raises a gun from his hiding spot. That was your signal that you were clear and lucky for you, these boys were unarmed. You assume their egos became quickly out of check when free alcohol was involved, and in their pissing contests, they would threaten each other with their guns and that character head boss of theirs couldn't have word getting out about things like that. So he made them start leaving their guns at the door, assuring they wouldn't use them on each other. Guess he didn't think that plan through.

You hold his face in one hand, running your hand over his neck and jaw and pushing his head back when you made your rounds of doing this, his eyes were closed, his life is literally in your hand and you felt the rush of knowing you were about to spill the first blood of the night.  
You take his chin into your hand and kiss him. He was terrible at it to no surprise, but not surprising in the least is that he's easily distracted.  
You stand over the boy, your hand holds his head up, looking like any other part of the dance. You hear the footsteps behind you. You tighten your grip on your largest brass knuckle knife. You didn't want to use guns tonight, but you did have yours to intimidate. You didn't need the attention on the place until you wanted it that way. Alfie had his brass knuckles, along with his hands, adorning crowns and his biggest rings, fists backed by strong arms and broad shoulders all powered by a sinister mind. The boys both had their fists and experience. Arthur liked to use the environment instead of planned weapon if he wasn't using guns. He was currently holding a broken bottle. Typical Arthur. John preferred bare knuckles, as he was a powerhouse tank that knew how to take a man off his feet in an endless number of ways.

 

You move your hand now holding your knife to your chest, acting as if you're going to grope yourself and move your occupied hand up his chest quickly. You retrieve your snubnose from your chest and hold the gun to the head of the man next to you as you slice the throat of the man under you. The blood flows down his chest as his hands reach up to his throat, you don't look away from the man in your crosshairs, and you rise off the dying man. The group is wide-eyed in their naivety and still, despite the whispers and curses you hear.

Alfie takes your right. Arthur circles to your left, John finishes the shifting square you've created. The orders were to keep it as quiet as possible and kill all the members of his wannabe gang. That's it. You had intentions on getting messy tonight. Thus the red dress. You needed desperately to work out your tension and that was your intention. Take out as many as possible. The room is quiet except for the gurgling and sputtering of the man who had fallen out of his chair and was now face down on the ground. His wet hands slapping against the intricately tiled mosaic floor as the blood spread out along the cracks mimicking their natural movement in the body like it was flowing through a different set of veins now.

"'Fraid you've made some very poor decisions that's led ya here tonight, boys." Alfie nods as his booming voice echoes around the room. "The worst bein' the decision to work for your bastard of an employer and that decision will be the fuckin' end of ya tonight." he states with a strong nod. "So say your fuckin' prayers to who the fuck ever and let's this get this over with, shall we?" he says with a charming grin, adjusting his grip slowly on the dusters in his hands.

They stay still, some standing in defiance but carrying those actions no further. These men really were pathetic.

"Are you just going to sit there like a bunch of fucking pigs waiting for slaughter or are ya gonna fucking fight?" you shout loudly, taking a few steps back, your arms out at your side in exaggeration.

You hear Arthur curse with impatience and the broken glass hits the mans face as his friend jumped to his defense and it went from there. You and Alfie picked them off from behind. You struck, stabbed and hit at temples, throats, noses and groins. Each leaving you with more and more blood on your person. The way these boys loomed over you in your fighting stance led to attack from above, making any throat slice, if deep enough, spurt out another gush of blood, dripping down your dress after soaking the upper half of your body, before you could get out of range.

They begin to notice you're picking them off and they start to move in numbers towards you and Alfie. Then it became a true brawl. You have your knife, it and the combination of the knuckle dusters were enough to temporarily disarm most in just a few well-placed hits. You see the lack of form these fellows have, lumbering and easily distracted. Your speed and knife to their panic, swinging chairs, and broken bottles wasn't the fairest fight to them but it allowed you to enjoy yourself. The more you take down, the more they seem to want to be the one to take you down.

You hear things crashing around the room, but you can't pay much attention as they start to swarm and you have to switch gears. You go low, taking their feet out from under them in kicks and hits, your legs striking high at chins and guts as your skirt flies out in a pleasing floral, fluid visual amongst the dark moving forms of men on the floor around you.

By the end you're underneath the last man who happened to be rather large, giving you a bit a fight to finish. You've got the knife pushed through the top layers of his body where his neck used to be, now just a deformed mess from the struggle as you shout in frustration and effort to shove him off of you. He'd had his hands around your throat, you'd matched this with the knife across his and a thumb in his eye. Once you see your boys standing and watching you, each look a bit predatory in its own unique way, you let your shoulders slump as you move to all fours to standing, in realization it was over. Arthur looks like the runner-up in being covered with the most blood, behind you who was literally sopping with it. You rise, moving your dress as it makes heavy wet squishing sounds as you do so.

As you stand and look down as you notice none of their eyes were meeting yours, you see the fabric of the dress really wasn't made to have gotten wet as it is leaving nothing to the imagination. Your nipples being hard from the blood coursing fast through your veins are painfully visible as they do look hard enough to cut with the way the fabric sucked to your skin as you moved. Your arms especially, caked in fresh and clotted blood are the same color as your already red, blood-soaked dress giving the illusion of not wearing anything at all, really. You let out a grunt of frustration as you fling the gore from your hands and move towards them slowly, especially thankful now for the previously concealed slits in the thighs of your dress as without them, walking would have been really damn difficult. The moisture in the fabric making it so heavy.

"You could've stepped in at any time on that last one ya wankers. Ruined my bloody dress." you grumble, you are met with silence. "I'm gonna start fuckin' charging all of you if you don't stop fuckin' gawkin' like some schoolboys." you bark at them, making them stand at attention. They were all wound up from their violence and you weren't actually mad. You were just annoyed at the shift in the mood around you like this, being bothered more by how it bothered others rather than the nudity itself. "Jesus Christ boys, pull yourselves together." you say in a higher pitched voice, pulling the off the shoulder dress up as it was starting to shift.

You looked like a statue carved from red marble by the most gifted artist known to man, he thought. Although this statue of a goddess was real and moving and breathing heavily, perfect proportions shown in their rhythmic movement that could steal your words from your mouth and make it go dry. He was still grunting and heaving, his fists just starting to remember how to unclench, wanting to act on the thoughts that formed in his mind at the sight of you that matched his animalistic current appearance. Your scolding tone snaps him out of his hungry gaze as he clears his throat and puts the brass he wore in his pockets, moving towards you.

"C'mon, boys," he groans, taking off his coat and wrapping it around your shoulders, his hands resting on your shoulders. "She'll make us pay for the gift of sight if we keep using it to look at her." he says with a chuckle, having taken out a lighter and cigarette as he spoke, he hands it off to you. You look him over, as he helps you, hair damp from sweat, just the least bit of blood on his white shirt. His hair flopped about before he wiped it back with this hand, you always found it charmingly boyish when you caught the rare chance to see it in its natural state.

You slide your arms into the oversized coat and accept it, lighting it between your fingers with narrowed eyes. Thinking this gesture felt like an odd sort of power move from him, although his eyes were passive as they turned from you. You couldn't help but notice Arthurs displeasure at Alfie being the one to do your post-fight aftercare he'd been used to handling.

You regroup swiftly, the brothers gone, leaving you and Alfie to depart together.

"You mind if I take a bottle, boss?" you say, hoisting up your dress as you walk towards the bar.

"You got all the liquor in the world at home, luv." he says, moving his hands back and forth, dismissing the idea but your back is already towards him.

"I know but I want it for the drive home. I prefer my hard liquor to be earned after a job nowadays." you say with a laugh, leaning over the bar and grabbing a bottle of whiskey and walking towards the back door. "That got us?"

"That's got you, you sneak on to the car and I'll be out after I sort this out." he says, shooing you off with his hand.

"Yes, sir." you say with faux enthusiasm, hoisting up your dress in your arms to make it easier to get to the car.

Once you settle in with a swig and your cig, letting out a loud, pleasurable exhale of a job well done, you wait for Alfie. As you sit in the dark, having spent all your energy inside, and having still been so close to recovering from your last fight, you found yourself absolutely exhausted.

You rouse as he slides into the car with a grunt. You yawn as he settles.  
"Good?" you ask with a stretch.

"Should be, yeah." he says with a nod as the car starts.

"That went pretty well I think." you say optimistically, settling your back against the seat, and into the coziness of his coat. Drinking from the bottle, looking miniature in the oversized coat and sleeves that hid your hands as they grasped at the bottle.

"Yeah it did." he says with an enthusiastic nod.

You nod in agreement, taking your shoes off and pulling your legs underneath you and your turn to face him, the side of your face on the back of the seat. "Alfie?" you ask, in that tone you know he recognizes.

"Yeah, luv?" he says with a half smile, voice holding amusement for your call of his name, reminding him of a cat meowing for treats.

"I'm completely fucking knackered." you admit with a lazy smile, your eyelids resting lower than usual.

He laughs at you. "Ya sleepy there little one?" he teases.

"Yeah, little ones sleepy." you say with a slow lazy chuckle, your head leaning back on the seat, you rest the bottle in the floor.

"Well ya earned your rest after that in there tonight," he says supportively.  
"I believe my personal apology is in order after that wonderful show you put on. I shouldn't have questioned your judgment on the matter." he expresses genuinely, you feel him moving, speaking with his hands despite your eyes being closed. "Since ya keep goin' on and bein' right even with the odds stacked against ya." he says, not hiding that tone of being impressed and confounded at your behavior. "You'd think I'd learn." he tsks himself playfully.

"Now's not the time for praising pillow talk, Solomons, I'm tired." you smile, your eyes staying closed with your tilted back head, a smug grin on your face.  
\--  
You wait until you're out of the city and away from the lights. "Safe to unbutton this coat now?" you ask, breaking the quiet of the cabin of the car.

"Yeah, take it off if ya want, we won't run into no trouble now." he says in a tone that tells you not to be silly, do what you want. You run with this unverified permission.

You unbutton all the buttons on the long jacket, feeling better as the air hits you, cooling you immediately. You fan it a few times until you shiver, scooting closer to him and putting your head on his shoulder.

"What's this now?" he says in a laugh. "Never had a business partner do this after a job." he teases.

"Well the jobs over." you state in a bratty tone. "And I'm very tired and it's a long drive." you explain in a small voice, invading his personal space.

"You're right. Jobs over, innit?" he says readjusting how he sits to accommodate you.

"You know if my doing this truly bothers you I'll stop. Just tell me." you say almost short with him. You were genuinely fighting to keep your eyes open.

"Go to sleep." he whispers in a gruff tone you reply with a short laugh and you curl up in the seat.


	21. Stand By My Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song is Stand By My Girl by Dan Auerbach. -- Comments & Kudos are appreciated! <3

 

 

He's standing in a side room of the bakery, bottom lip thrust under his mustache, staring at the door to the main warehouse. He's alone before everyone arrives. He's called you, his men have been instructed and now he waits in the quiet hum and ambient noise of the dusty sepia-toned room. He's focused, feet firmly planted, eyes half hidden under a heavy bro. His hand twitched about his pocket watch, anxious for the time to pass so his plans would be complete.

The brother of the smart-mouthed, recently tongueless Italian man you'd murdered at The Garrison had somehow found his way to him. He'd gone into the meeting with the expectation of it being some sort of con but it never came to pass. Therefore, he seized the opportunity to con them instead.

This man wanted you dead for family, the small group of men he ran with wanted you dead because they were paid to. He tells him he was behind the failed hit on you. Alfie nods slowly as the news hits his ears, the devilish smile that came across his face would've made a man with any intelligence flinch and run. But this one, blinded by his own stupidity and revenge wouldn't see Alfie coming until the bullet from the pistol in the drawer was already embedded into his skull. He accepts their proposal, spit in hand, calm distant eyes sending the men away without a suspicion in the world as to his deceit.

So he'd invited you to the warehouse for the evening, sighting he had something he couldn't bring home with him that he wanted to show you, he'd promised it would be a big surprise. He certainly was a man of his word. Even if he had twisted them to suit his needs in this instance. You believe him, and of course, you do. You trust him.

In following through with this plan, he felt a certain line crossed within himself. He was killing more Italians, that would miff Sabini, he was deceiving you by not telling you about the plan, but he needed you to not know so the men tailing you to the bakery would believe the sudden and swift arrest of you from your car was genuine. He had them do it in a location that would allow the men to not be able to reach the warehouse before Alfie would have all the other men killed before they arrived at the same fate. He has a duplicate car pull up slightly ahead of schedule and as the men on the roof steady to aim to take you out as you enter the bakery, Alfie has his men with their own guns in the shadows finish all but one for him.

So here he sits. In the muggy warehouse, staring at the metal double doors waiting, willing his needed outcome to come forth through that door. The man who hired him sits across from him in his office, he turns his face to the other side to the phone on his desk in anticipation, ringed fingers fidgeting in his beard, eyes alert and roaming. It rings, he excuses himself with a nod, putting his feet up on his desk, fingers on his free hand twisting the chain on his glasses as he nods and grunts into the receiver.

You're in custody. You're fine but you're furious. He can hear you screaming in the background, the muffled sounds of a door thudding rhythmically, he's sure you're vicious little feet are beating against it in a rage only a scorned woman knows, your hands in cuffs, the pretty dress you'd worn all askew. He informs them in his few, shadow-like words to give you the letter he'd written and make you as comfortable as possible. He hangs up the phone with a nod, hand moving smoothly to his desk drawer as the man looks down the long corridor outside of his office.

Alfie turns to see what he'd needed to carry through on the action he'd just started. Olli comes in, bringing in rum that had been promised earlier with the group's arrival.

"That the call for the kill?" the man asks, looking out towards Ollie as he walks down the long corridor.

"Preemptively, yeah, mate." he responds with a series of nods, pulling the pistol from his drawer and shooting the man in the head, point blank before he even knew what had hit him.

"Well." he sniffs. "'At's 'at, innit it?" he says with a nod, thumbing his nose. "You know what to do wif 'im." he grumbles, pulling on his coat as Olli approaches.

"Where shall I send the barrels, sir?" he asks, taking the gun from his hands.

"I 'ont fuckin' care...Timbuktu?" he says with an annoyed shrug. Grabbing his cane and heading back home to wait for your release.  
\----------------------------------  
As soon as you're out of the station doors you're reminded of how furious you are at his actions. You see Joseph holding the door open to your car as you stomp your way across the street. You stop before you bend to enter the car.

"Did you know about this plan of his, Joseph?" you ask harshly, shaking the previously balled and thrown piece of paper that holds Alfie's excuses, your body language reading hostile.

"No. Absolutely not Miss!" he shakes his head, his eyes wide and apologetic. You hadn't truly suspected him to be in on it, he'd just been available to take your anger out on. "Mr. Solomons sent me to get you as soon he returned back to your estate."

"Take me to the bastard, Joseph." you groan as you pull your dress angrily into the car with you. You sat and stewed in how mad you were the whole ride home. How could he not tell you about this plan that involved you? How could he embarrass you? To allow you to be arrested and treated in such a way? Had you let him forget who you were and what you could do? What sort of man kills to defend you, but won't impart the knowledge of the plans to do so to you?

He's sitting in a turned out chair to be facing you as you enter the dining room. He can tell by the quick trot of your feet that you've not taken to his plan well. He'd expected this and sucks his teeth, followed by a deep breath. He'd hoped you'd understand his business strategy and take it in stride as part of being involved in business together. But apparently, you'd decided to take this partiiscularly personally. He rises from his chair, head down and waiting for the abuse that was almost guaranteed to occur.

"Alfie!" he hears you screech before the maid even finishes her greeting to you. No Mr. Solomons used in reference to business...he knew you'd taken it all entirely personally.

"In 'ere." he shouts towards the doorway, facing your wrath head-on. He hadn't expected you to come in with this level of intensity after the long drive home but rage seemed like something you were never typically short on.

"Who the fuck do you think you are Alfie Solomons?!" you shout as you appear in full revved up form to be framed by the doorway. You looked a bit worse for wear than he anticipated, his nose flinched just slightly with the feeling of guilt.

"Well ya went and answered ya own question dinnt ya sweetie?" he says, shaking his head in obvious response. He can hear your huff of breath from your side of the room as your shoulders and hips moved in an almost sultry tandem as you stalked towards him, your hands in fists at your sides and slowly rising.

"I am so far past my limit for your smart fucking mouth right now Alfie I swear to God!" you say shoving him with both hands on his shoulders, he moves back slightly.

"Geneveive, calm down, I only did it for your own good now, you can surely see that, yeah?" his face more than annoyed at you laying your hands on him. You didn't care you wanted to tackle him against the wall and choke him with his own cane.

"I don't need you to fix my problems for me, Alfie! And to not TELL ME?" you shout in his face. Your shorter form rising on your tip toes to press into his personal space, your shoulders squared, hands itching to grab hold of him and hurt him. "It was a consequence of MY OWN actions and you have NO right to interject like this!" you're shaking with anger, embarrassment, your pride was screaming for being assaulted in such a way. You feel like such a fool to have thought that he actually thought of you as an equal. You didn't need him to fit the role of protector for you because you didn't need or want it from him.

He opens his mouth to respond but you cut him off, your hand rising to point at his chest.

"You made me look like a fucking FOOL, Alfie! Leaving me in the dark like this?! I'm not some god damned damsel that needs to be fucking saved! Then I was fucking brutalized being put into that fucking police wagon?!" you screech, your body tensing so hard you jolt with the delivery of your words. He looks you over to see the bruises and scratches and tears in your dress to back up your statement, lump in his throat growing. "You don't try to pull the wool over my eyes when I'm the fuckin' WOLF Alfie! I am not some SHEEP to blinded from the harsh realities of our world!" you scream in anger, your face tensing as you do so, hands shaking.

"It weren't nothin' like that, Gen, yeah? They was gonna try to kill you either way, weren't they? I see now I was wrong to think you'd see it rationally and not take it so personally." he pauses to roll his eyes and take an exasperated breath. Your eyes go even wider somehow, your nostrils flared, your teeth bared.

You can't help that your hand raises back to slap him across the face. The edges of your vision are glowing red as you look at him. That smug, wide-eyed feined innocence to guilt in his defense of himself. He catches your hand by the wrist and his bottom lip disappears under his mustache, sitting under his flared nostrils that exhaled angrily at you.

"Now don't go actin' like a child on top of this fit you're throwing now, eh?" he says, his head dipping down closer to yours to speak with a hiss of anger. You have the thought to hit him with your other hand and as the impulses from your brain shoot down to your fist he reaches out to grab it before it moves, he shakes his head and glares down at you as you struggle mildly in hopes he'd just let you go. You're relieved and annoyed that he's smart enough not to. "Ya gonna go actin' like a little girl everytime I gotta do business with ya and somethin' don't go your way?" he asks with words dripping of condescendence. You don't see any reason not to push back if he's going to continue his avalanche of disrespect.

You're so angry you just elect to make a noise of frustration and butt his forehead with yours, you knock his hat off with the force. "How dare you speak to me like that." your voice is low and heavy as your brow right now, your face clearly reading hostile towards him.

"Or fuckin' what, Gen, yeah?" he asks, now more animated than he had been. He just uses his grip on your forearms to move your body and shove you away from him. "If ya go 'n hit me, yer only provin' me right, innit ya?" he asks, brushing his shirt off, leaning to reach for his hat that had hit the floor.

You don't think much in the next few seconds. Your muscle memory kicks in and you've tackled Alfie. Slamming against a side table that rested against the wall, knocking off candlesticks and vases of flowers before you take him down to the ground.

"Fuckin' hell, Genevieve!" he gruffs out as he moves to control your arms that are coming at him fast, your hands clawing at his throat to choke him. He uses his larger form to roll you over, pinning your legs down, you manage to get one arm free in the struggle, That one arm desperately grasping the ground above your head, it's met with the cold metal of a candlestick and you swing it at him like you're delivering a right hook and he moves off of you quickly, making the metal hit your tiled floor, cracking it. His eyes move to the chunk of misplaced floor your small but fierce frame has caused with the metal object. "Ya tryin' to fuckin' kill me?" he shouts, his eyes wide but a scoff still in his voice. You're already working on getting up as the object makes its impact, but he's already standing, knowing you aren't going to stop now unless he stopped you first. He knew of a knife you kept in a rather, intimate space on your body, and he knew he had to get it before you remembered you had it. This really wasn't how he'd wanted to get his hands on you.

"You don't deserve death you lying...patronizing...fucking... disappointment of a man!" you growl and pace your words with your movements, as you stand in a fighting stance. You lunge at him again, he spins and grabs you, holding your back against his chest and the constriction of your movements makes you shout and growl out in anger as he lifts your feet off the ground as you kick. "Get off me you fucking mongrel!" you shout and squirm. His forearm slips around your throat. You immediately kick the edge of the table, forcing his back with a hard thud into the wall behind him. Your hands hold a talon-like grip on his forearm, trying to force him away, causing your adrenaline to surge. Your hips are struggling against his, you feel one of his arms loosen and you aren't sure the cause of this for a moment until you feel his forearm grip even tighter around your neck. You squeak out as you feel his hand raising up your skirt. Your eyes are wide and you elect to use one of your hands, previously holding his arm back from restricting your air too much with, against his hand that was now grasping at your inner thighs. Your feet kick back and try to hit him but you're met with the stone of the wall behind him, you hit his legs and this proves to not be enough to deter him. You rasp out his name in hopes to appeal to his emotions, as your nails scratch up the back of his hand as it clumsily searches the apex of your thighs. If your face hadn't been red from the forearm against your throat it would have been now in a mix of intense vulnerability and another wave of rage. You gasp and realize what he's going after too late. His fingers tug the leather strap that sits high up your thigh and hip. You don't have time to dwell on the thought long of figuring out when he'd seen your thigh strap before. You feel the cold metal of his rings, the scratch of the sharp bits of the filigree surrounding the gemstones as his fingers slide in the crease of your squirming thighs, he tugs out the small switchblade-style knife.

You growl at him again, pushing one of your feet against his inner thigh, bringing your hips up enough to kick back and hit him in the general area of his balls. Which was good enough for you as he lets you go. He's doubled over, face just as red as yours, both gasping for breath. You grab his wrist and yank his hand that holds the knife away from him, taking it from him.

"You ever do business that involves me again without consulting me on it and I might just fucking kill you next time!" you shout, pointing at him with the knife still open. His screwed up expression face looks at you as he reaches over to hold himself up on the edge of the table. He rests his weight on his elbows, watching you as the plethora of emotions you were feeling plays across your face. You disappear in the direction of your wing, hiding your face before the tears that were in your eyes fell. He knows better than to chase you for any reason he may have, so he groans and shuffles his way back to his room.


	22. You Should Be Glad You've Got A Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song is You Should Be Glad You've Got A Man by The Family Rain.

 

You experienced a vast array of shifting emotions. When you thought you had one under control, here came another one rearing its ugly head. So you do what you always do when you have too many emotions. You paint.

Claire sits, laid back on your fainting couch eating an apple with noisy bites, she's looking at the painting you finished last night.

"I mean I like it," she says with a shrug, her foot pointing at the painting, pulling up the hem of her sock. "It's a bit..." she chuckles. "immature, sure but I get where you're coming from." she says, sitting up in the chair and yawning.

You'd been up all night, barricaded in your studio painting in anger. You'd broken two brushes already from pushing too hard as you worked out your emotions in the paint. Claire had come to have breakfast with you in your studio as an act of solidarity against Alfie. You both knew the silent treatment wasn't the way to actually fix anything. But damn did it feel good to be petty when you were mad. And if you tried to talk to him while still being in the middle of your feelings then you'd say something you'd regret because you like to go for the throat verbally in a knee-jerk reaction that can make you say things you can't take back. You did have a professional and personal relationship to take into account here. You also lived with the man so avoidance really was more trouble than it was worth.

"It is childish but I quite like how it turned out." you walk up to her, sipping your tea. You place your finger to the dark black background to check if it's dry. You frown and wipe the paint on your apron. "I mean portraying him as some mediocre cartoonish devil villain isn't the peak of creativity but I think red skin suits his eye color." you say with a snort of a laugh. You'd painted a portrait, a soft focus stereotypical devil Alfie. Red skin, pointy teeth, and tail, big huge sweeping horns, a grin full of bad intentions across his plush poisonous lips.

"You should give it to him as a present." she says with a sleepy smile, only half joking.

"Perhaps if we come out on the other side of this intact than perhaps I will." you say with a shrug and a sigh, looking away.

"You wouldn't give it as an insult?" she asks with her head tilted before she takes another bite.

"Christ no, I worked hard on that. He doesn't deserve it," you say straightening your posture. "Besides I think the bastard would probably like it." you say, a smile fighting it's way to your lips as you think about the laugh he'd let out if he saw the painting.

"Yeah, you're probably right," she says with a nod, eyebrows high. "How's your newest going?" she asks, standing and slowly moving towards the smaller canvas. "What are you doing here?" she asks, tilting her head as you stand next to her, arm to arm, as you crowd in front of the painting.

"After I painted my anger and it faded, I felt the shame kick in as usual and found myself exploring that deep running vein and found myself here," you say, your hand open and presenting the unfinished work.  
"I can't tell what the fuck it is Gen," she says, laughing into her tea. You knock her with your elbow and cause her to spill her tea just slightly. "Oh fuck off now." she says with a laugh, leaning away to take a noisy sip.

"You're so rude," you say in a very amused voice because to anyone else this was a red and black mess currently. "It's his lips." you say in a frustrated way. Claire raises an eyebrow.

"Saucy choice. Interesting. Explain." she asks with a bowed head, putting her hand on your shoulder, her head on it, dragging out her words.

"Well ya know how he got all up in my bits after that knife and me being the untouched virgin I am," you don't plan to pause for your joke but Claire snorts in your face.

"Yes. Virginal. You would have to not have sex for at, minimum, twenty years to make up for the naughty things you've been into." she says in a low droll, teasing tone.

"It feels as though it's been longer than 20 already," you admit with a humorously anxious expression. "And apparently his big pouty, smoochable, lips of his, hiding that serpent tongue inside just keep distracting me most of all...because that's what's come out." you exhale. "It's a close up of lips here...the forked tongue out this way and down...it's all going to be wet and glossy lookin' and a touch gross," you say rather flatly. "I think it'll be an interesting addition."

"I hate it when they have smoochable lips too," she says in solidarity, nodding and looking at the splotches of paint and lines of graphite. "It's right on their face where you can't miss it and if I don't want to slap it then I want to kiss it and it never leads anywhere good."

"Because of the serpent tongue inside," you say with raised eyebrows.

"That fucking serpent tongue will get us, educated girls, every time won't it?" she sighs, taking her weight off of you.

"If only I wasn't attracted to men at all." you sigh, "Then I could do be a lesbian and they've certainly got the right idea, don't they?" you snort out as she nods and shares the sentiment.  
\------------------------  
"Are you included in the lot that's shunned me, Agatha?" Alfie says with a very warm and sweet tone that Aggie is weak to.

"Oh don't you come at me with that Mr. Solomons," she says, shaking her head and folding sheets. "If you want to know about our Gen then just ask." she says with an obvious, knowing tone.

He sighs and slumps his shoulders. "She's not been down for a meal in two days. Now, this breakfast as well?"

"I know that." Aggie says, making him use his words.

"I know she's mad and we left on bad terms but is she just gonna stay locked away in her own house forever? That don't sound like the Gen I know." he says, chin pushing into his chest with an annoyed look on his face.

"She does this when she knows she can't face her problem because she's too emotional." she gives him a side eye, giving him a bit of what he wanted to know. "She's been in her studio painting it out," she adds, smashing down the air filled layers of bed linens. "She'll come down when she knows she won't kill you any longer," she states obviously, picking up the full basket. "So I hope you're as patient of a man as I pray you are, Mr. Solomons," she adds, looking up at him from under her brow. "Because last I checked she still wanted to."

He turns to watch her leave, eyes narrowed. It'd been days and you still wanted to kill him on sight. Well things weren't looking up at all were they?  
=------------------------  
He knows you're out of the house. It's been two more days since he'd talked to Aggie. You'd come down for meals but you'd been very short with him and made no eye contact. He was making progress but he wanted to speed this up and needed intellect seeing as he'd not been in this situation with you before.

He sneaks into your wing, up the spiral stairs, and into your studio. He stands hunched, hands around the knob as the door quietly clicks shut. He looks around the room and takes a deep breath before moving farther into it. A larger canvas sits with it's back towards him, drying in the sun, he assumes. A smaller one sits on the raised platform in the room where your paints and brushes and stool rest. He sees the black and red paint, plentifully smudged across the apron that rests on the small table. He steps up and turns so he can see what you're working on. He's a bit taken aback. He wasn't sure what to expect but this was, rather sensual he thought. It reminds him of the painting above your bed, serpent around the woman's body, and here were lips parted with a serpentine tongue peeking out of them. It had the strangest feel like you'd painted something from a dream and made it real. The soft focus and combination of hyper-realistic spit and shine make his face unknowingly to him at the time, move into a thoughtful pose. He realizes it apparently hadn't just been his actions that had hurt you but his words, as the reference was obvious. That same guilt that was still panging away on his insides starts to stir again.

He remembers the larger painting and approaches it. Now, this is more what he had expected. Here was his mad little Genny. He takes in the portrait of himself. Eyes calm and raking over it. He finds himself starting to laugh. The drama of it all. The way his eyes pierced through the darkness and shadow of the rest of the painting was striking, really. He thought the horns were fantastic, he hoped he could get you to paint him without the red skin next time and keep the horns. He's still laughing as he considers the pointed tail and puts his hand over his mouth to keep quiet. Seeing your anger clearly, radiating off the severity of color and light but the way you've made him so good looking feels extremely promising to him. The not subtle visage of him being the devil entertained him on many levels. He takes in the painting with a sweeping motion one last time, savoring it before he leaves.

He was thankful to not be painted in a scene with a sword to his throat honestly. He'd always thought you a bit of a Judith, to be honest, but he was glad he wasn't the king in this scenario. He could see you were mad, but it wasn't as murderous as he anticipated. He knows there are good odds that he can fix this, so he ponders where to place his bets. He just has to do something to get you to talk to him. Something to show he wasn't just another man to let you down. A disappointment, you'd called him. He didn't want to be among that company. You were far too valuable to not be willing to compromise to keep on his side. He needed something big.  
\----  
You walk into your home through the front door. As soon as the sunlight is off your skin the strong smell of lavender hits you. Your eyes adjust, then go dramatically wide at the sight before you. There are rows of baskets of lavender in the entryway. Aggie is pushing them to the side, making a pathway to the door.

"I believe he's bought all the lavender in London, dear!" she exclaims, shaking her head. It'd been days since you and Alfie had your fight. You'd avoided him, cold shoulder, no words spoken, no downtime spent near him. You'd hated it. As much as you loved fighting, when it came to actual things that involved those close to you, you loathed it. It made the air tense and it reminded you of being in trouble as a child and the feeling liked to make you nauseous. But you had still ignored him out of spite. Aggie holds out a small envelope to you and you rip it open quickly.

"I might not think I'm wrong. But I know you're right. I'm sorry. " you hand falls heavy at your side as you let out a frustrated sigh, wrinkling the paper in your tightening grasp. You look over the filled room, the air heavy with the smell you were fond of. "Fuck me, the wankers went and bought me a field of lavender as an apology hasn't he?" you let out a high pitched, nervous huff of a laugh, your shocked face looking over to your friends.

"Oh, that is...nauseatingly romantic," Claire says, walking into view, her expression as if she'd tasted something terrible, arms crossed. "That's... worrisome is what that is. This feels like an actual attempt at an apology, doesn't it?" she says shaking her head and lightly kicking a basket.

"Well shit." you groan, "Here I was faltering in my rage and then he goes and does something like this." you say in a sigh, agreeing with Claire on the romantic bit.

"It's not a boat but...?" Claire grins with a shrug, joking about the outrageous gift you'd received before.

"This isn't as expensive no, but..." you sigh, your face frowning as the flowers tickle your ankles as you move about the baskets. "But this is far more personal, isn't it?" you scrunch your nose, looking to Claire who shares your expression, nodding in agreement with a worried look on her face.

"I have to say...I know I like to fluff the boy up so you'll marry him, but this is the nicest thing I've ever witnessed a man do," she says still dumbfounded and a bit in love with the man herself. "And for someone he's not even courting!" she adds with attitude.

"Don't forget he's apologizing for fighting and lying." you snap back with a side eye.

"He killed all those men for you! Yes, you both handled it terribly but he was protecting you, Genevieve! Like a man is supposed to!" her voice is pleading with you.

"I'm not even going to begin pointing out the terribly disturbing things you just said and instead remind you that we are where we are today because of me and not a man." you shake the paper at her. "This is a very grand gesture and something I actually find grotesquely endearing but I am not forgetting what he did. I may forgive him. But I'm not going to forget it." you say, stuffing the paper back into the envelope and heading to your room.  
\--------------------------  
You're laying on the cold stone floor, the baskets of lavender all around you making you feel relaxed as you look up at the sky through the window at the top of the dome in the ceiling. You're waiting for Alfie to get home. You hear him pulling up the drive and stand, you wait in silence until he shuts the door.

You're waiting for him near a ray of moonlight beaming from the ceiling. "What is all this fuss about, Solomons?" you ask, the envelope in your hand. His heart races at the unexpected sound of your voice. Closing his eyes as he turns to start taking off his coat and taking a deep breath, preparing for whatever you were about to bring down on him.

"Well I fucked up, dinnit I?" he says, setting down his coat. You nod in agreement, face indifferent. "I had to do something big to try 'an start makin' it up to you." he holds his palms up and out in an offering of the idea to you as he approaches after hanging his hat.

"This is certainly big," you say, your eyes meeting his. "What's this about then?" you hold up the paper.

"I do not believe that killin' those men so they wouldn't kill you was the wrong move. I saw a clear opportunity for a blindside and I took it, yeah?" his tone is only slightly defensive.

"Okay." you say, face and tone flat.

"But I shouldn't have lied to you. That very specifically was wrong." he reaches out and takes your hand. "And I do apologize for that." he gives you a series of short nods to emphasize his words. "Those coppers weren't supposed to be so rough on ya neither. Had a word with them about it, I did." he says his brow furrowing just slightly at recalling the memory.

"I'm also sorry for laying hands on you that way I did." he retreats his hands at the admission.

You sigh heavily and hold his gaze. "Ugh." you groan, your shoulders slumping. "You really are sorry, aren't you?" you frown up at him, sounding disappointed with the news. You'd never had a man rise to the occasion for you before. But here he was, meeting you where you had wanted him to go.

"I am Genevieve, yeah." he nods, his voice low but avid.

"I'm sorry I came at you like I did." you bat your lashes at him in a showing of defeat accompanying a sigh. "I'm still upset with you, don't misunderstand." you give him a soft smile. "But that will fade if you truly are sorry and your actions reflect the same notion." you offer politely.

"They will, luv and I started with buyin' you yer own field of lavender to run away to like you used to, yeah? Thought that might make ya happy." he squeezes your hand and you unwillingly give him a sweet smile. "Anytime us men go 'n act like fuckin' wankers, yeah? Anytime you get upset," he smiles down at you, selling his intention. "You can go and hide like you did when you was a girl, can't ya?" He asks with a push of hopefulness in his voice. "You remember tellin' me all that or was it all wine at that point in the evenin'?" he asks with a low chuckle that gives him a smile big enough to show teeth.

"I remember," you say with a sigh, looking out across the room. "I'm impressed you remember though." you admit with a tilt of your head. How dare he impress you.

"I know I talk a whole fuckin' lot but I can also listen. Yeah? And you've been nothin' but good to me, Genevieve." He takes your hand again. "I may be a right bastard sometimes, but I don't wanna treat ya like that. You deserve better than that now, doncha?" he asks, his head dipping towards yours.

"I do," you answer just above a whisper, looking back up at him. "Thank you for apologizing." you put your hand on top of his. "Thank you for the flowers." you continue sweetly. You swallow and your brow lowers, the sweetness in your face faded fast. You step closer to him, your hands held together pushed between your bodies. "Thank you for not taking their money." his eyes shift and they look confused for a moment before they're shrinking under a heavy brow.

"Never crossed my mind to do such a thing to ya." he answers in a hushed voice with no hesitation. Your stomach hurts for a fleeting moment because much to your surprise, he meant that.

"And thank you for killing those men." you say in a whisper, leaning closer to him.

"Weren't nothin'." he says with a dismissive tone, his face frowning with his words.

"I'll forgive you, Solomons." you say with a smile, your eyes locked. "Don't expect me to forget, though." a hint of warning in your voice.

"Smart woman like you, I'd expect nothing else." he says obviously, his hand bobbing yours in unison with his statement.

"You are so sickeningly sweet when you want to be, aren't you?" you sigh, a small subtle but more expressive look falls upon his face. "I don't have a field of flowers for you so this will have to suffice in its place," you say light-heartedly. You press your lips against his, your fingers gently placed on his jaw. It felt like the right thing to do, some gesture of your own to show your apology. His lips give against yours, but the rest of him stills. A single drawn-out press that you pull away from briefly as you consider, for a weak moment continuing the kiss.

Your eyes still shut, you don't see his eyes open as you pull away, seeing that fraction of a second of hesitation, his eyes closing again as he fights the confusing feelings that bubble up from the slightly open mouths that share the same breath for a moment. You feel him furrow his brow, his lips holding yours tightly, still against each other. You feel that shudder-inducing tingle in your spine for a moment before you part, signally the reboot fo your brain after the assault your defenses systematically failed to withstand. Pulling you back before you make any more bad decisions tonight.

"Don't make me regret my mercy, Solomons." you whisper against his lips before you pull away. You turn and leave him in the hunched pose, only his eyes moving to watch you leave. You don't hear him so much as breathe as you make your way to your room, your feet carrying you much more quickly than you had meant them too.  
\----------  
You're in bed, the curtains not pulled to. The lights are out and the hall light is on as you see the sliver of light under your door. You'd let your fingers take your mind to another place where it didn't matter who you were or who he was, that consequence-free place you preferred to be when your hands made their way between your thighs. You move your busied hands to the bed, pushing yourself up as you think you hear something.

The sound of footsteps come up the stairs through your wing door you'd left open in your hurried escape. You hear the step-step-click of Alfie. Your heart still slightly raised from the activities the sound had interrupted, you feel it race again at the realization. You keep your eyes on the sliver of light, the shadows showing his standing in front of your door. You hold your breath. The air felt thick and tense. It was like a weight settled on your chest as your body tensed at the thought of what could bring him to your room this late.

The shadows shift only slightly. You think you're fooling yourself but you think you could hear him, it was probably your own heartbeat in your ears. You don't know how long he stays, it feels like hours when it's over. Your body slumps back on the bed as the footsteps retreat down the stairs and back into the main hall.

"Fucking hell..." you whisper aloud to yourself, your head rolling to the side to glance at the clock. You were afraid you knew the answer. What other reason do men come to women's rooms at 3 in the morning?


	23. Fever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song is Fever by The Black Keys

He's sitting on a stone bench in the garden, coffee in his cup, sipping noisily and admiring the countryside and sunrise on a lazy morning. He's watching the lavender he gave you move in the breeze, most it now planted in an empty section of the field near the edge of your pre-existing garden. The rest littered the garden, bunches of it placed among the low lying flowerbeds, the last bit of it put into a large decorative planter that you'd placed in front of the window in your bathroom. You'll call him in when you're in the bath sometimes, bubbles masking the surface of the water. Bits of flowers, petals, and herbs scattered throughout the rolling hills of the soft mounds you set flight to as your lips pursed and blew. If he remembered the sight of you, what you'd asked him on each occasion couldn't be recalled with it. He just knows he's seen you breaking pieces off and using in your baths and your little bottles of oils and perfumes you made. The smell of the lavender he'd bought you slowly penetrated your hair and skin over the days into weeks of using it. He couldn't help but feel smug at the thought that you went out into the world smelling like something that would remind you of him in some way.

His thoughts and the near silence of the early morning are broken as he hears hooves. He gazes out, seeing a horse riding over the rolling field that lay before the forest on your land. You're atop the horse, galloping in, your hair bouncing with the rest of you. It had blown back, the long braid loose and messy down your back. The first rays of light just starting to break through the gloom of the morning, he can see the heat coming off you as you slow and dismount. As you approach he see's you're wearing another old fashion choice in dress, this one including a corset. The light white fabric of the sleeves, open front shirt underneath the tight fitting plain bodice over a layered skirt that was gathered up into your lap as you held it as you rode. He clears his throat, eyebrows rising as he's noticed the garters that hold up your stockings, worn underneath your riding boots. He found himself quite fond of the look. His eyes continue to watch you as you fix your skirt, hair, and chest as you call out for the man who works in the barn, the horse's reins in your hands. He decides to cut his morning reflection short to investigate.

"What' are you doin' up this early ridin' about?" he asks in a gruff shout as he crosses the dirt path from the garden to the barn.

"Good Morning, Alfie." you say, you scratch your head and mumble to yourself, distracted, walking the horse into the long line of stalls in this side of the barn.

He scoffs and laughs, hands on his hips are you blatantly ignore him. His shoulders still shaking in amusement as you walk farther into the barn, he stands and waits as he sighs and shakes his head at you.  
\---  
Alfie has elected to stay outside the barn, getting to watch you walk with a stomping purpose back towards him, rolling your sleeves up over your elbows.

"I was distracted by Essie, I didn't hear a word you said." you say, shaking your head with a laugh as you crack your knuckles on approach.

"Forgiven, dear." he says with a dismissive shake of his head and wave of his hand. "I was inquiring about what ya doin' ridin' around so early." he politely explains again.

"I ride out before dawn to the forest quite frequently," you say, your face and chest flushed, he notices your hair with varied bits of leaf and twig stuck in its soft waves, you reminding him of some sort of forest nymph. "I have a spot for Essie to graze and run while I take off to the woods much like a rabbit, runnin' and jumpin' and carryin' on." you say with an easy going expression, your eyes bright. "Gets the blood flowing, ya know?" you tilt your head and wrinkle your nose. "Keeps me in fighting shape." you nod and raise your skirts as you take a pitchfork in your hand and move towards a stall. "Gotta stay on top of these things for work." you conclude sweetly before you move from his sight into the stall.

"I did know you rode." he chimes in, surprised to find you shoveling the contents of the stall into a barrow in the corner.

"What kind of little rich girl would I be if I didn't know how to proper ride a horse?" you say with a laugh, wiping your face with your forearm.

"Is that why you wear a corset to do it?" he smirks and you turn with narrowed eyes and a half smile.

"In part," you say, your eyes looking up for a moment. "When you're plentifully proportioned in such a feminine manner, as I am," you say with a cheeky smirk that compels him to mirror the expression. "You have to have support to ride a horse. Don't want to knock myself out or break my back." you say indifferently.

"I've always thought of corsets as a pleasing aesthetic choice, did not occur they would help in such a way." he beams that cake eater grin at you and you give him a scolding but still warm glance, a heavy sigh quickly follows and you shake your head at him.

"I'm sure there are lots of things you don't know about the reality of dealing with such aesthetically pleasing things." you jeer.

"Also didn't know shoveling shit was something you bothered yourself with, eh?" he asks with crossed arms and a raised brow.

"Well I'm having Winston look after Ess and this was the last chore he needed to be finished before he could leave for holiday, didn't want to keep the man away from his new baby any longer than I already had." you said, he thought he might've heard a touch of guilt in your voice.

"Here, gimmie that ya milk maid lookin' thing." he laughs, holding his hand out for the fork in your hands. You purse your lips at him, shoving the fork further into the hay.

"I am perfectly capable of doing it myself, thank you." you say with a smile but a defensive tone.

"I didn't say you weren't, but I'm a bigger lad than you, eh?" he asks, fingers gripping into his palm for you to hand it to him.

Your shoulders slump and you move to carry what's on the fork into the barrel but one hand slips in your distraction, knocking the metal of the handles of the wheelbarrow, and with the force you exerted to take the heavyweight over, the handle snaps in your hand.

"BAISEUR DE LA MERE!" you shout, one hand immediately covering the other as your shoulder shoves past him quickly. He sees the blood on the splintered handle that rests on the ground now. He hurries after you. You're cursing in anger, your face set in an angry pose that would have been adorable if the anger behind your eyes hadn't been so hot. You see Ess in the far stable, as you trot back to Alfie. "Winston's gone, I'll need to fuckin' clean and bandage this fuckin'-" you let out an angry growl, foot stomping as you bend slightly. "MERDE qui fait mal!" you laugh loudly, madly, holding your hands to your chest, taking deep slow breaths. "Enfer." you grumble as Alfie jogs away from you and you follow less enthusiastically as his loud voice booms across the garden.

"OI!" he booms across the flowers. His tone and word choice reminding you of boys from your school days. "Don't fuckin' see no one. You need me to go? I don't know where it's at but-"

"No, wait I'm sure it's not as bad as it seems-" you explain, not moving your hands apart, afraid to be proven wrong.

"OI!" he yells again, making you roll your eyes with no real annoyance in your face for him, only at the volume with which he announced his displeasure. "Imma go tell 'em." he mumbles out before he moves away quickly. He returns just as fast. "You need to hire girls who know where the fuck things are Genny." he says, annoyance in his voice. You tilt your head at him in question. "She said she didn't know where it was either but she'd go find out and bring it." he rolls his eyes, hands on his hips.

"It's fine. Just help me sit and we'll use this skirt to stop the blood for a bit. I don't feel faint or anything, I think it hurts more than the damage warrants. Lots of nerves in the hand, ya know." you say with a sweet smile to off set your rough words.

"Here, luv." he says sweetly, holding your elbow and sitting you on a stone step outside the barn. "Want me to tear a piece off?" he asks, the hem of your dress in his taut hands.

"Go on." you give permission. You groan as he pries your shaking hands apart, wiping off the non injured one first, setting it down on your dress, his strong hands are so gentle as they move you about the wrist. You can see the cut is near your thumb in your palm. You make a disgusted noise and shake your head. "Bollocks." you mumble with a sigh. He wraps the fabric around snuggly, you wince a bit but beyond that, his touch is like a whisper.

"You'll be just fine, least it wasn't your dominant hand." he's looking towards the house as he speaks, his hands taking yours between his, still holding a pressure to the cut. You were somehow flattered by his knowledge of which hand you wrote with, then you realize you also know his. Your brow would have furrowed if it hadn't already been from pain. You stop to study his hands as he holds yours, his impatient expression still looking over your shoulder. Your arms are pushed together by his holding of your hands, your bodies are directly up against each other, arms and thighs almost on top of the other as he'd pulled you to him to inspect you.

"You're going to make me nervous for no reason if you keep acting like this." you insist, eyes wide up at him, your doe-eyed expression catching him off guard as he'd been distracted by your aloof maid's incompetence.

"Uhh.." he stutters out, chin pushing back into his neck. "Sorry luv, that rocks for brains little girl got me frustrated." he says with a sigh.

"Then let's distract ourselves, shall we?" you suggest with a tilt of your head. He gives you a soft nod and smile. "Since they are directly in my vision, I can't help but be pulled to ask you about your tattoos, Alfie." you suggest. His head moves in small quick movements in surprise, looking down to his hands.

"Ah." he says with a quick series of nods. "You curious as to why I've got the crowns, eh?"

"How could I not be?" you say with a sweet grin.

"I got 'em after the war." he declares after a deep breathe before he elaborates, indulging your curiosity of him." The story starts before 'at though." he says shaking his head, brow low, face looking out towards the garden, being lit by the sun as it rises over the hills. Your eyes float across his handsome features as he speaks in his animated and captivating way when he tells stories. "'Spose me scrappin' and fightin' about as a boy was the true beginning," he says with a shrug. "But boxin' was where it became more than something that kept me occupied in my free time at school." his stare moves to meet the one you'd been giving him. You notice the sun picking up the yellow flecks in his blue eyes as he speaks "I's a touch good at it, yeah?" he says with a wrinkled nose, nodding over at you.

"I can imagine." you say looking up at him, your heart thumping at the thought, your adrenaline fading as he continued to speak.

"After the war I knew that weren't what I wanted to go back to. But it did certainly help save my arse more than a few times." his eyebrows raise in emphasis. "I was a Captain, right? "N as it came to pass you have to fight your own when you're fighting others sometimes." his nostrils twitched slightly in a tiny tell that tells you the memories could still bother him if he let him. "Whether there were words or drink or just being fuckin' stir-crazy we'd brawl," he says as if it's common knowledge. "With my position, there were many names I'm sure they called me," he lets out a huff of a laugh. "But the ironic usage of righteous fists in the insults they would whisper behind my back was always my favorite," he says in a whisper, nodding his head at you. "Somethin' about it."His eyes narrow and move away from you, darting about the garden again. "Even said in such hateful ways you can't help but feel a certain respect in the title. I ended up fightin' when I'd drink too much for all the wrong reasons and I'd win every time." he turns his face back towards yours, you make sure to lift up your half-lidded eyes. "Not a brag so much as a fact." he nods sincerely, face set softly to sell his point. " Wasn't exactly clean fighting, as you might be able to imagine." he almost mumbles, frowning slightly for a moment before his eyes twitch again and it disappears.

"I can." you say quietly to show you're listening. You notice you've been biting your lip and change this fact as soon as you realize. You hate to admit you'd let yourself almost get flustered at the power that came off him as he told his tale. The thought of him bare-knuckle boxing and then the number of men he'd been victorious over admittedly had done something for you on a deeper, darker, more animalistic level.

"I don't like to dwell on the memories from the war but that dunnit mean they're all useless." his words start high pitched and more to a deep rumble as he speaks, he looks down at his hands." I got myself out of the mouth of hell more than once with the help of these fists." the slightest hint of pride in his voice. "Seemed proper to remind meself of that." he gives that funny little face, his exaggerated frown when he wants to show his support for his point. "And to warn others I can send 'em back to their makers by my own judgment." he adds, a tilt of his head, his voice back to soft." 'N remind me that I still have yet to meet mine." his voice was growing more gritty as he continued sharing.

It hits you hard how dark and powerfully sexy his words were feeling to you. "That story is far much elaborate than I could've imagined. I can't help but be terribly interested when you speak to me of yourself in such ways. I love knowing what darkness motivates you." you show a supportive half smile, your head tilted towards his earnestly.

"I've seen your paintings, Gen. You don't fear the darkness in the same way others do." he shakes his head just slightly, looking down at you with a question in his eyes and voice.

"Same as you?" you bat your lashes up at him, your lips parted just slightly. He doesn't know if you mean to come off so seductively but you do nonetheless. As you lean forward to speak to him, he looks away, his peripheral vision aching at the noticing of how your breasts heaved when you slumped your shoulders to speak closely with him.

"Certainly seems so, yeah?" he gruffs out, eyes lowering to your chest as you look out the garden with a thoughtful smile and a nod.

"You know I'd thought of getting a tattoo before..." you say in a light-hearted way, smiling down at his hands. He lets out a sudden, high pitched scoff.

"Now why the hell would you go and mark up a gift from god like 'at?" the words blurt out, sounding like a disciplinary scold, his face turned up in an expression of pure confusion and perhaps even disgust at the suggestion. The red reaching his face as his clumsy and boarish delivery of the words hits him. Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise at the delivery of his opinion, you fight back a patronizing smile and choose to speak softly to counteract his knee-jerk reaction.

"Well," you say with a half smile, looking off to the side to nothing in particular. "I'm quite fond of them on men so I thought I would be fond of them on myself as well." you say with an entirely mischievous smile, he knows you've seen the crack in his calm facade in reaction to your feminine charms. You see his eyes, although skilled at not getting caught looking at you in ways he liked to pretend he didn't, grasping at the chances you give him consciously and not to look at you. In particular your breasts. Which were, in his defense, very distracting to a fan of the female form such as himself and in this corset nonetheless. The compliment isn't missed by his hungry mind as you noticed his Adam's apple bob up and down noticeably.

"You don't need no further decoration, luv. Believe me." he recovers in a gruff tone, his head swiveling about and not meeting your eyes. You can't help but be endeared to his boyish behavior. Getting his feathers ruffled over you getting hurt so simply, his opening up to you, the fumbled words from his suppressed impulses your body sent his way; a big, grown man like him getting flustered over some cleavage was for possibly the first time in years you can recall, something you found yourself getting turned on by. It seems you did have a soft spot for weak men, but the catch was, the weakness had to be you.  
\------------------------------------------------------------------==============================================  
It's another slow Saturday morning, Alfie sat in the study putting the papers away on his desk. He hears a high pitched squeal from you from the front door and he carries himself with a jog to the sound.

You've got your arms wrapped around Tommy's son, Charlie. He's on your hip and he's very weakly defending himself from your assault of kisses to his round little face. "How is Auntie's little gentleman? Look at you gettin' so big! I could eat those chubby cheeks right off your face!" you baby talk him enthusiastically, making 'nom' sounds and blowing raspberries on his face as he laughs and squirms. Tommy is closing the door behind him as Alfie rounds the corner, he's laughing quietly and smiling as Charlie tries to answer questions.

"Afternoon, Alfie." Tommy greets the man as he approaches, they share a mutual pat on the shoulder.

"It is." he gruffs out, looking at you as he speaks to Tommy. "Didn't know you were coming in today, mate."

"He's here on business and surprised me with this little man." you coo affectionately, bouncing the boy around.

"Well, I knew you'd want to see him. He likes driving around in the new car anyway." he shrugs slightly, hands in his pockets.

"Business, eh?" Alfie asks, looking back at Tommy.

"Don't be nosey, Alfie." you say, walking towards them both. "If you need to know, you'll know." you say with a non-threatening smile. You give Charlie one last smooch before handing him off to Aggie. "Shall we get the business over with so we can all enjoy each others company?" you suggest in a politely enthusiastic way. "I've got an adorable godson to spoil if you don't mind." you say matter of factly as you walk towards your office.  
\-------------------  
You're sitting on the front of your desk as Tommy speaks to you of a job proposition. A nouveau riche man, coat-tailing on a politician cousin has been throwing his weight around on the wrong people. Literally on girls that work for Tommy and figuratively with his drunken rants that begin with "Do you know who I am?". Tommy didn't go into specifics but he didn't have to.

"I had heard words spoken of the man but until the girls brought him to my attention I didn't think much of it. Once they told me what he had done to them, and rumored to have done to others, I knew you were the woman for the job."

That's all he'd had to say. He could ve lead with that and shook hands and been done honestly. Tommy knew a lot about you. He knew more about you than any other Shelby. More than Polly and even more than Arthur. After jobs in years past, you had spent the occasional very drunken night together talking. It'd all start with a drunken blurting out of something about Grace. You'd both be left raw and the stories just came tumbling out. As much of a pain in the arse he was, he had always kept your secrets. And of course, you'd kept his. So from these quiet confessions, you cathartically purged previous pain of your lives. Spoken into the flames of a dying fire, your pouring and drinking to kill that pain still very much alive.

Because of the nature of the stories told, he knew you preferred to take on jobs that required murder if you thought the person deserved it. Due to the nature of this man's crimes and your stories told, Tommy came to you when he found out a man causing trouble had harmed women because he knew you'd say yes. You had yet to fail him on a job and he was noticing that Alfie was also catching on to how much your allegiance was worth. This didn't bother him in the slightest, he honestly wanted to encourage it. The thought had crossed his mind more than once that if you and Solomons were to join forces, that would mean mutually assured loyalty of Solomons through your orders. He'd only ever known you to be, and frustratingly so at times, a loyal person to those you loved, and as much as you claimed not to like him, he couldn't help but think you counted him amongst those you were loyal to. He didn't see this as changing anytime soon, and you wouldn't let Alfie harm him if you had any control over it, and he suspects a woman like you would certainly have control over a lot of things in a relationship.

So this power hungry pig was known for his fondness of burlesque starlets. It would be easy to get him alone for the purpose of seduction. The man thought he was clever, thinking that dancers couldn't possibly be threats. He'd send his men away, except his driver who Tommy said he could have taken care of with no work needed on your behalf.

"And where will this be happening? You don't own a bar with a stage." you say, holding your hand out to ask for an explanation.

"That's why I wanted the meeting here and on a Saturday afternoon." he says with a subtle smug smile and you nod.

"You want to use Alfie's club," you state, lips pursed, looking at the door, wondering if the bugger was eavesdropping. "You want me to go grab him or ask him later?" you sigh out, swinging your head back towards Tommy.

"I'd actually like to speak to him alone first if you don't mind." he says in an indifferent way. You sigh and stand.

"If he'll speak of business on Shabbat." you say sarcastically with a closed mouth smile.

"He's not trying to sell you that holy routine is he?" he shakes his head, eyes rolling but an amused look on his face.

"No, but I do find his hypocrisy and blasphemy highly amusing." your chuckle shakes your shoulders as you leave the room to send Alfie in.  
\-------  
After being informed to the situation, the plan and the inquiry to use his club to do it Alfie sits back in your chair at your desk, hands on his stomach, shoulder hunched and brow low, clearly hesitant.

"I've kept the place quiet so far mate, best not mix things up right now. Not with the way the politicians are actin' skittish after our last job." he says, his face less tense but still unhappy.

"This man's cousin will not mind him gone. I'll clean it up. I just need a controlled environment." he offers, shrugging his shoulder. "Since Genevieve would be in a reasonable amount of danger with this rather large and strong man alone, I thought you might prefer to be around if anything did not go according to plan." he offers in a voice that is too still and calm to not make Alfie's eyes narrow at the man in offense to his assumptions of him.

A "Hmph." of consideration was the only response given to him for using you as a means to appeal to his emotions. He wasn't sure how he felt about the man's boldness to suggest he'd care about such a thing. Even if he was exactly correct in his presumption.

"If I know I can trust the owner of the establishment and the men in it, that lessens the probability that something will go awry significantly," he states with an easy going nod, presenting the attempt at persuasion and using you as a piece of the negotiation. "And we both know we can trust her, eh?" he offers, leaning forward with a nod of his head towards the door.

"You'll clean it up?" he asks, fingers tapping together in front of his face. "I just gotta give you a place for her to dance and 'ats it? You handle all the planning and dirty work?" he leans with his elbows on the desk.

"Every bit of it." he says convincingly.

"You got them political connections now, dontcha? Running for office and what not." he huffs out a laugh. "This a job for 'em?" he asks, tilting his head. "A favor among the aristocracy?" he lets out an amused breathy chuckle.

"Not exactly, no. It being at your club should bring no suspicion to you with the ends I have tied up." he says with a subtle purse to his lips, head tilting back at the man to show he wasn't backing down.

"So ya just use me place and ya payin' me? Is this what I'm to take away from this?" he asks, hands out in question.

"Yes, Alfie, that's what I'm offering." he states very matter-of-factly.

Alfie spits in his hand, Tommy follows suit as they move to open the door to include you in on the conversation.


	24. Every So Often

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song is Every So Often by The Family Rain.

The sun is starting to fall behind a line of hills, the dying light casting spots of lights through the long windows in your dance hall. You're practicing your routine for the show to reel in the big fish. You have two large ostrich feather fans, that you had seen at the shows in Paris with the near starkers dancing girls and you'd always been a fan. Never danced yourself, but you'd always wanted to. 

You have a multi-layered outfit. Currently, you're in the nudest layer, which only looked risque you thought. A tight corset, perfectly matched color to your skin tone. Same tone small bottoms that grazed ever so perfectly over the swell of your bum. All of it satin and delicately decorated in lace, adorned with rhinestones. A sheer robe, disguised as a long flowing dress would start the routine but be removed very shortly after you begin. Under it, a small feather wrap around your hips to match the fans you were delicately spinning about your body. You're scooting about in your sparkling heels, practicing your turns in the large mirror to the beat of the song you'd chosen. 

"Mr. Solomons!" Aggie calls out before she enters the study. 

"Yes, what do you need of me miss?" he charmingly smiles up at her from his desk. 

"Genevieve has been upstairs all afternoon and I'm having a bit of a situation in the kitchen. Would you mind terribly to do an old woman's knees a favor and fetch her for tea?" she lightheartedly implores.

"Don't be silly, Agatha." he says, shutting his book and placing his hand on her shoulder as he leaves the room. "I'll go fetch our Genny." he says, head ducking and heading up the stairs.

"Thank you so much dearest!" she shouts back, heading back towards the kitchen slowly. She watches him go up the stairs and lets out a heavy sigh. She hoped this might be the straw that broke the camels back. That camel being Alfie and the straw being your dancing. There was nothing going on in the kitchen, her knees weren't even bothering her today, she just wanted to make sure he saw you in that little outfit before you changed for dinner.

He pads down the corridor, hearing saucy jazz float towards him from the dance hall. He realizes you must have stayed upstairs all day to practice your routine for the upcoming job. He thought it all a bit much just to murder the annoying bastard but you had seemed excited at the prospect. He had been purposely ignoring your wing when he knew you were practicing. After his flub of gawking at you too closely for too long at the barn, feeling much like an adolescent, he honestly hadn't wanted to invite the frustration into his life again so eagerly. But here he was, doing favors and punishing himself needlessly. He already found you distractingly attractive, particularly as of late, and he knew that seeing whatever you were working on wasn't going to help keep him from sinning while thinking about you.

He hears your heels tapping and dragging across the floor as he stands against the wall by the door. He hears you swear and giggle, sometimes you'd sing but you seemed to be concentrated on the dancing. He takes a deep breath, thumbing his nose before his hunched shoulders lead the way into the doorway. He softly exhales at the sight of you. What had he done to deserve this? He thought to himself. 

"Aggie's callin' ya for tea, sweetheart." he says, looking around the studio. You respond first with a small, startled jump that elicits a tiny girlish gasp from you that makes his jaw tense. 

"You startled me," you say with a chuckle. "Is it that late already?" you ask, the fans still in place over your body. 

"'Spose it is." he says with a nod. 

"Do we have time for me to show you what I've been working on?" you ask with big, excited brown eyes and a charming smile. 

"Well, it's time for tea innit?" his tone makes the words both statement and question.

"Just a few counts, Alfie?" you ask with batting lashes, your knees bending as you bounce slightly with the sweet whine in your voice. "I need a man's opinion. I've never danced like this before." you hesitantly admit, an almost sheepish smile draws him in, you ruffle the feathers around your body as if to tempt him. 

"I'll see it at the club, won't I?" he deflects.

"You have to approve it, don't you? It's your club." you say with a huff of laughter at his odd behavior. 

"Not really, it's a job, innit? Not hirin' ya to do this sorta work meself." he says with the possible tone of judgment in his voice.

"You are being most stubborn Solomons!" you say, the feathers fanning out around your hips as you place your hands on them and stomp towards him.

"You're the only man I'd feel comfortable failing at this in front of so would you kindly do me this favor as I value your opinion?" you ask rather stubbornly yourself. He knew you weren't taking no for an answer after looking you over, shutting his eyes and shaking his head at your persistent nature working against him. 

"Be quick about it, they're waitin' on ya." he says, crossing his arms. You give him a most triumphant smile, moving to a marked place on the floor and nodding.

"Restart the record please, darling." you say in a lilted voice. He does as you command. 

Horns begin, jaunty piano soon follows. It's the most painful pleasurable experience he's ever been through. He wasn't sure if he believed you hadn't danced like this before because you were...very good at it. Your animated expressions and pointed toes looked professional as you flashed him bits of thigh and chest. 

He had a subtle smile on his face, standing very still as you danced. Since you sensed his suspicious hesitancy you didn't make eye contact with him and watched yourself in the mirror. You are fluffing the fans across your bottom like peacock feathers, using the large fans as a clamshell, hiding and emerging in parts to the suggestive, flirtatious song. You stop and let your exertion show before the song ends. 

"The rest is floor work," you explain. "I need to have chairs brought up to practice that part." you swallow and place your hands on your hips after brushing back your hair and fanning yourself without the aid of the feathers. You're met with silence. You stand up straight, eyes large and inquisitive as you saunter over to him. "Oh fuck me, it's not THAT bad is it?" you ask, a look of confusion on your face. "I know I've not done it professionally but I thought I was doing rather well." you say with no reluctance to brag. 

He can't help but laugh at your quick transition from sultry to adorable in your unsure face, almost pouted and upset, snaps towards his at the sound of laughter. He feels compelled to ease this unforeseen hit to your confidence.

"Fuck no, sweetheart." he gruffs out, reaching his arm behind his head and rubbing it. "Stunnin' ain't ya?" he nods and meets your eyes to make sure his point is driven home. His inability to control himself couldn't be allowed to chip away at you. It wasn't your fault he was feeling this way, not truly. Even if he did like to blame you in his moments of weakness. He didn't want that certainty in yourself to fade from your demeanor and cause you to mess up on the job. If some side kick bastard hurt you because he wasn't honest with you he'd kick himself. "Brilliant, truly. I was simply mesmerized by you to the point of speechlessness." he coos at you, leaning towards you as your face screws up with faux anger. 

"If you say so." you pause and sigh. "Thank you." you grumble, eventually chuckling as he stands with a raised eyebrow at you. "It wasn't too slow in the beginning was it?" your upper lip snarls slightly as you look at the ceiling in consideration.

"No, it was perfection, luv. Wouldn't change a thing. You do that night of and you won't even have to stab 'im. He'll fall over dead when ya look in his eyes." he says warmly, shaking his head just slightly.

"You aren't just saying that? If it's not brilliant and stunning as you say and I look a fool I will hurt you." you say with an almost serious threat. 

"Don't be fuckin' dull, Gen. Ya got eyes, yeah? Ya lookin' in the mirror all the fuckin' time anyway innit ya? You know how good ya look." he gruffs out with a hand motioning towards you. 

Your chin draws back at the underlying tone of anger in his praises. "Alright. " you say, eyes narrowed. You trot to set your fans down and move to take off your heels while standing and you speak. "I've got to change out of this. I'll be down after I do." you say with a nod.

His only response is to shove his hands in his pockets and grunt when he nods, bottom lip puckered out in agreement before he turns to walk, slightly hunched out the door. 

His hunched nature was born from shame. He had let himself down at how much he'd liked that little dolly girl sort of routine. But it was really doing it for him in some new ways he was reluctant to explore further. He's never bothered much with the dancing girls, even at his own club. The most he watched them consisted of approving performances and signing outrageous checks for costumes. The naughty doll approach the song lent itself wasn't usually the thing that he responded to in such a heated fashion. But perhaps it was only truly, because you were the one doing it.   
\-----------------------------------  
The bright spheres surrounding the mirror that ran the length of the wall, that sat behind a lovely stone counter, lit up your eyes as you primped for your number. You kept to yourself, not turning people down for conversation, but simply trying to get into the right mindset to do this sort of work. You're fussing with your hair as one of the more talented dancers comes and leans her rhinestone-encrusted hip against the counter next to you. You look over to her with a polite but indifferent face. 

"Must be nice having a gangster be your guard dog." she says. The tone was slightly insulting but you didn't exactly know what she was referring to. 

"Guard dog?" you say, your head tilting and your face wrinkled. 

She lets out a laugh, much more friendly in tone this time. "I guess you haven't heard what happened?" she says with a smirk, side-eyeing you. 

You turn on the stool, fully engaged. "I have not. What rumor is this now?" you say slowly, your gossip buttons all pushed.

"Ain't no rumor girl, I heard it meself!" she says with another laugh. You sit still and patiently, your eyebrows raising at her words. "You remember few nights back when ya came in to finalize this performance you're puttin' on tonight?" You nod and so does she. "Apparently one of the new mouthy boys in the kitchen took quite the liking to you. And by his nature he was announcing his fantasies as to what to do with those tits to the whole crew." she lets out a snort of a laugh, her voice shifting to a softer tone. "I only heard the bits about how he was gonna take ya boys out their barracks and declare war on your pussy." she leans away from you after chuckling out what she'd heard.

"I heard he was gonna take her after the show and bang her like a snare drum!" another girl behind her, a bit down the counter says with a loud laugh, hitting her face with a powder puff.

"Sounds a bit like the usual spew from the boys, doesn't it?" you say in a fully entertained tone, taking no offense and showing the girls you also didn't mind the laugh at the possible expense of yourself. Little boys ran their mouths, it's all they could do really, bless them. 

"It is." she nods and sighs. "But that weren't the good part." she shakes her head, the other girl coming up to perch on her shoulder as her lit up face spoke. 

"Sounded like a fuckin' whip!" she says enthusiastically. 

"Ya ruined my story! I hadn't got to that part yet!" she says fully offended and knocking her head against the other girls.

"Sorry!" she says with no real apology. "But it did. You could hear it through the whole club." she adds in a giggle.

"I don't like punchlines before jokes so just tell what happened?" you say with a laugh.

The perched girl retreats back to her stool, leaving the other, better storyteller to finish her job. "Well Mr. Solomons was still around afterward, he's doing his usual rounds, checking on us girls before he heads out 'n the boy in question is doin' his chin waggin' 'n all out on the floor. When it's empty you can hear everything in this place." her expression turns more devilish as she continues. "Well," she says with paced enthusiasm. "Solomons was speakin' to me when he heard 'im talkin' and I swear the man's eyes went black." she bends slightly in a laugh. "I feared for my life for a moment because I thought I'd triggered that sort of reaction." she rests her hand on her chest. "But he raises up like a fuckin' cobra bought to strike, right?" her eyes are brighter, getting closer to the climax of the story which you could not be more interested in at this point. "And he gets that ol deep grunty groan he does when someones went 'n made him all mad in the head. You know the one, right?" she asks with an outreached hand.

"'Fraid so." you chuckle.

"He's all growly like a big ol hound protectin' a bone." she raises her eyebrow. "That bone bein' you," she adds as a side note with a smirk. "Of course all us girls peak out the curtain after he storms out the door toward the mouth of the crude river." she chuckles. "You could hear his feet stompin' mad across that marble, love. Stalks up behind the unfortunate boy, breathin' and snortin' like a bull. He turns around, looks like the boy immediately shit himself at the sight of Solomons comin' down on 'im like 'at." she shakes her head in disappointment at the boy. "He leans in real close and says somefin' to 'im. Couldn't make it out, too low and far away. But by the look on his face he could've been tellin' him he was gonna kill his whole fuckin' family." she laughs again, a hand hitting her knee. "So, he rears back and slaps the piss right outta 'im! And just like she said, sounded like a whip crackin'. If 'is intention were to knock the words outta 'im he got that and a few teef too I assume." she shrugs and smiles. "Not anyfing entirely unusual for here of course as I'm sure you're aware. But I thought you might wanna know you got that big lad on your side, love."

"I wasn't aware he'd do such a thing, to be honest." you blink a bit slowly.

"So you two got a little thing goin'? He's never gone after none of the girls before. Much to our dismay. " she and the other girl who had butted in earlier both laugh in solidarity. 

"No actually," you say with raised brows. "That's what makes this so interesting," you say with narrowed eyes. "We're friends. And I know when people say that it means they are in fact, not but I haven't slept with him or anything. I thought we were mates."

"He might be invested in being mates in a different sense of the word." she snickers, her eyebrows high. "What with how he reacted 'n all." she shrugs. 

"Don't know no man who defends words 'bout a woman unless he's invested in some way or another." 

"Very true." you nod, looking back into the mirror and away from her. "That's what makes this story all the more titillating isn't it?" you suggest with a cheeky smile that shows through your bitten lip. 

The pants would be charmed right off of you if you'd been wearing any. You hated when boys fought over you. But you loved it when men fought for you. You drag your nails across the counter in mindless circles considering the plethora of possible motives behind his actions.


	25. Suck It And See

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song is Suck It And See by Artic Monkeys

He enters the club from the back, already not in the best mood due to what he knew he was going to have to sit through tonight. It wasn't only you flaunting your bouncing bits about but that you were doing it where others would see. Your enthusiasm for such a thing isn't something he understands but he knows it's not his place to interfere. He doesn't like the feeling he pushes down deep that sits green and angry in his gut. You had been nervous, your usual tells he witnessed before you left your house, but there had been this intoxicating twinkle in your eyes that he hadn't seen before. 

He gets the urge to check on you before he settles but before his feet carry him in that direction, he changes his mind. Perhaps, it's best if he doesn't. If there was ever anything wrong, you'd let him know. He never had to worry about you voicing something you needed to him, especially on a job. Which this was. He needed to remind himself of that. He sits far from the floor in a secluded booth. He wasn't chancing you being cheeky and trying to use him in the show. He was going to sit back and watch this all unfold and be of use if there was one for him. He hoped there wouldn't be. 

He takes out his pocket watch, and stretches his jaw, taking a deep breath and leaning back in his seat, surveying the crowded, buzzing room under an unapproachable heavy brow. He's watching some boys changing the stage lights for your set until he sees Tommy coming his way. 

"Not going to sit closer?" he asks, sitting down slowly in the secluded booth across from Alfie, he subtly motions his head towards the stage. 

"Don't wanna be seen too close to nuffin'." he grumbles, shaking his head, still not meeting eyes. 

"You're not taking advantage of the situation? " Tommy replies in his vaguely condescending way, making Alfie turn only his eyes towards his. 

"What's to be taken advantage of?" he asks, lips open under a constant furrowed brow.

"After being so close to her for so long now, I thought you might indulge yourself a bit tonight with taking in the show." he gives as an excuse, a slight shrug of a shoulder accompanies the statement. "What with how little clothes she wears around her house." he says with humor in his voice. 

"Despite that being true, I'm not." he answers flatly, eyes distant, looking at nothing particular in the room, his bottom lip protrudes just slightly in his annoyance. 

"I thought you'd be enjoying yourself tonight but I see I can be wrong." he says, in defense of himself against the darkness sitting behind the man's eyes. "Must be harder to live with than I thought." he adds, looking down, a taunt to give him information on Alfie's moodiness.

"It could be." he states in the same tone. 

Tommy rolls his eyes up to see Alfie, only short of a few millimeters of a pout with the way he was scowling. 

"The plan is to wait for him to send someone to speak to her, set the meet up in the dressing room, she does the rest."

"And I then take her home?"

"I'm sure after you see her dance you'll want to." Tommy says with a short-lived raised brow and subtle smile at Alfie's expense. 

"I've seen her dance." he responds, his face tight and clearly distracted.

"And did you want to take her home?" Tommy asks, crossing his legs and leaning on the back of the seat.

Alfie's wordless response of an open mouth stuttering with a slow blink of eyes and a rushed shake of his head before he stares at the stage telling Tommy all he really needs to hear.  
\------------------------  
Tommy isn't in sight when the lights lower over the stage, making Alfie relieved. This was going to be something enough to deal with even without his unwelcome remarks and insinuating glances. He sees spotlights appear on the stage curtains. 

He was immediately certain of his decision to sit away from the stage. It isn't as if the small amount of space from the stone stairs, separating the floor from where he sat was much of a separation. But just beyond the heads sat in clusters around the stage was you, drawing all eyes in the room with a single leg peeking from in between curtains as the music starts to play. The crowd had been very pleasant so far tonight and this did not change as you performed. He admits, your dancing had improved, bit more bouncy and matched with your singing made an unstoppable charming approach that had left it's intended targets jaw's on the floor. The lower register than the original made it much more sultry than it had in the dance hall. And he much prefers the sultry approach to the girlish. 

You take off a long sheer, sparkling robe, followed by the small ruffled skirt hiding very short bottoms that graze just over the swell of your bum in a way that makes his jaw clench. In the bright lights, he admits the sparkle added to the nude illusion you said you were going for. He's surprised you can breathe enough to sing and dance in the tightly cinched corset, perfecting your feminine shape as your hips swivel and knock against guests shoulders. You fluff your fans at gawking men, framing your face and body as you float across the room. Your hands land delicately on shoulders and chests, and only for a second, just a taste of closeness in response the way they were undressing you with their eyes. He could watch you work a room of people all night, beguiling them, using what you had to your advantage. He was afraid he'd finally fallen victim to your charms as well. He knows you'll ask what he thought. He considers his answer. Exquisite? Bewitching? Divine? Should he compare your beauty to that of a Parisian sunset? He ponders for a moment which goddess you'd be most fond of being compared to. 

He sees your hands sliding down your targets shoulders, lips near his ear and his own purse. He's sold on every word and move you make. He believed every bit of tease you put on and was fervently eating it out of your bejeweled hands. Oh, he wanted those decorated, delicate hands anywhere near his mouth. Anywhere on him at all. You've kicked back in a man's lap, taking his hat and wearing it. If these nobodies got to be gifted with your flirtatious touch, why couldn't he? He was somebody. These men that meant nothing to you. He knew he meant something to you, what exactly he'd never been able to pin down. And hell, if that didn't describe his grasp on you.  
\---  
You've slinked away with the target. He's nodding and shaking hands from his seat as the club thins out. He hears your heels against his tiled floors, coming from the back hallway from your dressing room. The wanker about to meet his end stands with his greasy fingers around the edges of hi jacket as you approach him with a killer smile. He see's your little heels clicking as you walk backward, hands tugging on the big man's jacket to follow you into the back room.  
\---  
How could he get you to do that to him? He thinks, eyes distant and buried under a heavy brow, bottom lip slightly sucked into his mouth as he thinks. Was there a way to sleep with you without ruining the whole set up he had for himself at your place while he lays low while his place is rebuilt? Built-in extra security and meals and luxuries on top of hospitality made the living arrangement almost too good to chance to ruin. But if the house turned to a personal hell of his own making, a prison where he couldn't escape his desires for you that he couldn't react on, should he really be there at all? But with the expected stresses of his high-intensity career, these sexual frustrations added on top of those made him feel as if he could buckle under it at any moment. He hangs his head for a moment. Closing his eyes just made the visuals of you worse as he shakes his head and sighs. He had to at least make an attempt to sleep with you. Breech the subject in some way. You weren't opposed to speaking of such things, he'd found nothing too taboo for you up to this point, you were a modern woman, surely sleeping with a friend who was in such close proximity already was a situation that would have passed your mind by now. If only to ease the tension from the high-stress careers you led. He didn't think a romantic approach would work, you weren't known for your hopeless romantic notions so he figures the practical approach is best. Seeing as you are a very practical woman underneath all that flash. 

If you said no, he was at no long-term loss. He'd be right back here and he'd have to swallow his pride and deal with it. But at least it wouldn't be hanging so heavy in the air like this. The attraction he felt for you weighed around him in an almost visible haze. There's no way you could be surprised that a man in his situation would have become so attracted to you that he would wish to sleep with you. You knew how gorgeous you were and how you'd touched him, feeling that same small spark ignite as soon as you'd collided. He knew if you said you hadn't thought about sleeping together he'd call you a liar. 

You appear in front of him, your shoes peeking out from under a long black coat, fluffy fur around the collar that your hair bloomed out over. Your made up face looks over at him with big blinking doe eyes. How could that face have just killed a man?

"You alright sweetie?" he asks, rising from his seat, having a little stretch for his back. 

"Bastard ruined my ostrich fans. Bled all over 'em." you pout and whisper angrily as you kick the floor. "Other than that yes, I'm fine. Just ready to go home." you give him a soft smile, showing a bottle of wine in your very deep long coat pocket.

"She kills a man and is concerned with her feathers getting wet." he teases.

"Well, I care more about them than him don't I? Clearly." you say with an attitude-filled head shake, your mouth still set in a frowning pout that was just as cute as the last time he'd seen it.

He lets out a laugh, putting his arm around your shoulders, giving you a little shake and squeeze. "Clearly. Let's get you home so you can order four new fans to offset the sentimental loss of the original two as well, eh?" he playfully suggests.

You give him a little smirk and a side eye as you move with him out of the club under his arm. He sure knew how to get you to stop whinging, didn't he?  
\---------------------=============================--------------------------------------------  
By the time you make it home you've finished a bottle of wine and you were in a very good mood. The loss of your ostrich feather fans long forgotten by half the bottle. You knew you were drunk, but you didn't feel sick, you just felt warm. Your slightly delayed but still attentive eyes bat up at him as he moves to help you out of the car. You scoot without grace to the end of the seat, trying to bend to get to him.

"Ya wearin' things ya can't even move in, sweetheart." he shakes his head, his tone scolding but even in your buzzed state you could see in his face he meant nothing by his tone. 

"But it looks pretty." you say in an obvious tone.

"It is innit?" he says rhetorically, you feel you aren't as wobbly as what his behavior warranted. "All that wine ain't helpin' ya move 'round neither." he says in a quiet chuckle, your gate a more languid, not hurried in the least, he feels your hips knocking against his side. 

"It was a very good year." you say matter of factly with a nod.

"Seems that way, yeah?" he says in a teasing tone.

"Did you like that wine, Alfie?" you head tilts, your attention off track and your voice sounding oddly innocent in its aloofness. "Did you get to try that one?" you say, face turning back to him.

"I ain't much on the pink stuff." he explains.

"Oh I like the pink stuff." you enthusiastically nod, breaking free from his arm as you reach out for your door frame. Your childlike insistence in your voice as to the factual nature of what you said was highly endearing. You saunter over to your fainting couch by a fire that's already been lit. 

He walks in, standing in the doorway, "You seem sober enough to put yourself to bed." he states, you glance up at him as you unbutton your coat. 

"I need help with my thingy." you mumble. "Shut the door." you move your hand to indicate he should enter the room. You toss the coat onto the couch, he sits his in a chair. "I need help getting out of this." you say rather softly, your chest stuck out, arms up and behind your back, as you reach to pick at the strings on the corset. "I don't wanna get up Aggie, can you get the bell or somethin'" you grumble, eyes on the floor in concentration.

"Here luv. Let me 'ave it ya helpless little bird." he says in an amusing low voice. You turn rather obediently away from him, your fingers raking through your hair that you pulled to the side and over your chest to clear his way.

"You know what you're doing?" you ask in a soft polite way. 

"Lucky for you..." he says in a gruff tone as you hear the sound of taut string slipping, the ridgid sides of the garment loosening ever so slightly with each tug. "I 'ad older sisters who made sure to abuse my strong hands to lace up their corsets before they went out." he says in a pleasant tone.

"Smart use for strong hands." you nod, looking down at your own hands. "They did you a favor, you know? Teachin' you how to do this. Bet it impresses the ladies." you say with a giggle.

"Don't know what's impressive 'bout it. Ya ain't never had no man take off your things for you at the end of the night?" he says with an odd smugness in his tone. 

You're quiet for a moment. "No." your answer is weak and couldn't be more surprising to him. The look on your face, same as in your tone is curiously indifferent. It seems as if you'd never considered the thought before. You're both hit with the weight of your answer. 

"No better time then the present then, eh?" he gruffs out, his fingers finishing their task. "Hold it up there love, I got ya all undone." he says, holding the ends together as your hands press against your chest to secure it. His choice of words feels appropriate as you feel the warmth of his hands held against your chilled back.

"Lemme change." you mumble, shuffling into the doorway that leads to your closet. He takes a deep breath and rubs the back of his neck. He looks up at the ceiling, eyes sweeping over the room for something to distract him. They land on something moving in the mirror on the far side of your room. The mirrors lined up apparently from your closet, giving him what he wanted but didn't need as you're bent over and sliding your stockings down your legs. 

"Genny?" he calls out, his face fell as he watched you change.

"Alfie?" you lilt back at him, he sees you stand up straight and turn your head as if there isn't a wall between the two of you. 

"May I ask you a question about your work tonight? Might be a touch sensitive in nature."

"Smart lad to wait until a woman's drunk." he hears and see's you snort, your tongue poked out of your mouth just slightly as you laugh to yourself. "Shoot, Solomons!" you command in a friendly tone, one of your arms moving into the air for a sweeping gesture, only meant for you, as if you were sarcastically inviting him to reply. 

"How ya stand to do it sweetie?" he says, his voice sounding exasperated, sighing after he calls out. 

You bite your lip, side-eyeing in the direction he was standing. Strange to ask of morality at a time like this but sure, you're feeling good and you decide to indulge him but he interjects before you can. He'd seen your face fall and wanted to make sure he clarified his intent with the question. 

"I 'ont know how it is for women...seein' as I ain't one 'n all yeah? But for a man it seems that sorta work would be endlessly frustratin'." he explains. You nod as you fix the nightgown over your body, navy and floor length, slim straps holding up the lace-trimmed heart-shaped neckline. 

"Oh you mean physically?" you elaborate as you round the corner, running a brush through your hair. "Well it's no different from any other day I suppose," you say with a high pitched laugh, your smile seems to be genuine. "Life'll get you all stressed and leave ya with no suitable vices for your tensions. Just keeps fucking with you and leaving no real release. So why would the looming annoyance bother me more when I work than when I'm not?" you say with a shrug.

He quickly shuts his mouth and wouldn't even dream of redirecting the flow of this conversation that is leading right into temptation where he longed it to go. 

"I know it's the wine talking but I'll elaborate since your eyes are the size of dinner plates." you say with a laugh. 

"You don't have to, luv. I-"

"Viens. Sit next to me, Alfie." you instruct, the drunkness languid nature of your movements fading now. "I'm drunk and I want to talk about myself. You bring up an interesting point of conversation." you say with your chin high, foot bouncing as your leg crosses over its mate in his direction as he sits on the couch next to you. 

He sits, letting his body language read as relaxed, his knees apart, having taken his shoes and jackets off, shoulders rested on the back of the seat.  
"I know I've spoken briefly of my frolics over the years to you," you say with a pause, your fingers touching his knee without much of an exertion from your arm. You pull your legs half up into the seat with you, resting your side against the back of the couch. 

"Yeah I wish you'd speak more on 'em." he says in a deep chuckle.

"I know you would." you say with a smile. "But before I moved here I decided to slow down. I didn't like where it was going. I knew I needed to buckle down as I went farther into my twenties and so I cut off certain parts of myself so other parts could grow. But with all those vices gone, I fear I go a bit mad sometimes without them. I got off the booze and the boys and the drugs. No fun at all. Especially in the beginning." you groan and your posture softens. "And with those demons at bay, I still find myself wanting to be bad and feed them from time to time when they're howlin' at me. You know what I mean? Or am I in a mad spell currently?" you ask with a wrinkled nose and charming laugh.

"No, no, Gen I'm afraid I understand you too well." he gives you a series of nods in solidarity.

"You always have your quiet calm power about you. And here I was, thinking you might be able to tell me the way you deal with it since I can't seem to find that quiet reserve you have." you say, your face holding nothing but honesty. You don't look shy or hesitant about the discussion of the subject, you're entirely casual, head tilted and waiting for his reply. 

"Well if we're both sufferin' then maybe we should look for the answer together? Misery loves company, ya know." he says with that exact smooth and certain, suave delivery that you felt you lacked at times when you felt partiularly needful. 

"Oh." you say with a sly smile. "You're being a cheeky boy now, I see." you say, shoving his leg with your hand.

"It may be cheeky but it ain't my intention to be a boy about it." The tone in your entire body shifts. You look over at him from under your lashes, your mouth shifting to a smirk almost immediately. 

"You're serious?" you ask, honestly a bit impressed by his boldness. It didn't surprise you he would be intersted in the idea. You knew he'd wanted to sleep with you, but you'd turned your mind away from it in reality. Mainly because you found yourself wanting to do the same with him and it'd been so long since you'd wanted someone like this. It felt like such an overwhelming task to take on. There had never been a right time to act on it. And with someone you actually liked, well that just made it even more complicated. 

"If it doesn't offend you." he says with a calm, focused face. 

"It doesn't," you say with a shake of your head, wetting your lips. "Well, this wasn't expected tonight." You let out a huff of a laugh. "I don't know if it's the alcohol or my surprise that's left me not knowing where to even begin with this topic of discussion." you say with an easy going inflection to your voice. He couldn't be more relieved at your lack of immediate, violent offense and an impending refusal of his suggestion.

"Well just so happens we got all night, yeah?" he says in an amused hum, eyes looking at your lips, his head tilting just slightly in a flirtatious way that made you shake your head with a soft, breathy laugh.

"Well hell you are serious." your voice and chin dip low as you suck your teeth. "Fuck it! Fine." you shrug in a playfully aggressive way. "I'll bite. This won't be a dull conversation will it? What are the terms we should propose?" you say, putting your legs further beneath you, arm on the back of the couch, sitting up straight at attention, your face in thought. "We'd have to keep it a tight secret." you say matter of factly.

"What's the reasonin' on 'at?" he asks, chin lifting slightly, his eyes not moving from your face. 

"Pulling the veil back a bit here for ya Alfie..." the corner of your mouth pulling back slightly. "It's because I've not slept with anyone for quite some time. Serving the purpose of not giving anyone any rumor ammunition to be able to speak of anything other than business about me. If it were to be known I was sleeping with a gangster..." you say, being honest and hoping he didn't get his feelings insulted. You see an easy going smile on his face at your words, a comforting expression to ease the worry he could feel behind them.

"They talk bad about ya, I'll kill 'em." he says in a dashing and boisterous, moving his hands about as he spoke in a way that makes your eyes shut with laughter. 

You sigh and settle back into the seat. "Another addition to the contract would be you can't go acting like that," you say with an amused shake of your head. "Thinking I'm some sort of property of yours. Defending me and my honor." you aren't sure if your tone tells him you know about his little tantrum on the busboy. But you knowing about it was enough for now. 

"You are no mans, luv. Learned that the first night I met ya dinnit I?" he says, his elbow reaching out to nudge your arm as you look down and smile, tucking a piece of hair behind your ears as you turn your face to the fire to hide the blush he'd caused.

Your lips form into a pout for a fleeting moment, giving away your reaction to his remembering the first night you met. You sigh again, eyes dancing around the fire as you think. "It would work to keep from going crazy for both us, correct? I mean...that would be the purpose." you say in a low, quiet voice, eyes still on the fire, your brow heavier now than it was the last time he looked at you. 

"It's whatever you want, sweetheart. This is 'bout you, not me, innit?" he offers selflessly with open palms to back up his tone. Again his willingness to cooperate for your sake makes your stomach flutter slightly. 

You fall quiet and look up at him from under your lashes. You're biting your lip and the insides of your cheek as you glance away again, a frustrated look on your face he was trying to understand, you shrug and flop your hand on top of the other in your lap in annoyance. Don't let your impulsiveness get the best of you. "I don't-" you whisper, brow furrowing. Were you really ready for the repercussions that could come from this? "I don't know." your eyes look around the room, wide and glossy. You'd been drinking, were you really going to go back to waking up with regrets because of something you did while drunk? "Perhaps now isn't the time." you say with a slight shake of your head. Play it safe for now, there's always later. "I don't think it would be a good idea...tonight." you try to speak with certainty but the words come out in whispers. You'll wait until you feel this pull again when you're sober. "And it doesn't come from a lack of want, darling." you say with a sudden charming laugh, a blush across your cheeks, that catches him completely off guard, sending a rather dumb grin across his face as your face lights up if just for a moment at him. "I believe my brain, which is what I try to use most when making decisions," you say a more light-hearted way. "...is telling me it's not the smartest move for me just yet." you nod, returning your eyes to his.

"You know I'd never push nothin' on ya Gen, you know it's not like that, sweetie." his voice swinging low and his eye widening in their support of his statement.

"Of course, Alfie, don't be silly. The suggestion or the act itself isn't what I'm having an issue with." you say with a polite shake of your head. 

"Oh?" He sits with a very interested look on his face as he nods, showing he's listening with a slightly furrowed brow. 

You give him a half smile, your hands clasping together in your lap as you decide to elaborate. He'd been nothing but respectful so far, you figured he deserved some elaboration.

"I've worked very hard for what I have. And I have done this by and for myself for a very long time," you say with no sadness, but a tone to inform emotionally instead. "I want my respect earned on my own, not from association with a man." you state honestly.

His head tilts, his brow softening at the vulnerability you're showing, knowing you're being honest with him. Every time he could feel you actively choosing to share a hurtful truth over an easy lie with him made the feelings that your closeness stirred all the more confusing. "Since you've clearly, and rightly so, I might add," he gives you a series of short nods in his support,"...considered the negatives to this idea..." he says, his voice easy and smooth, purposely so to show his lack of judgement to the things you were sharing with him. "Have you considered the positive things that could come from it?" his tone inflects, eyes swinging up to meet yours with that rush of power behind them, weakening your defenses. You narrow your eyes at him with interest, leaning forward just slightly for him to continue. "Workin' wif the system instead 'against it." he tilts his head to the other side, his hand moving as he spoke. "Ya consider the positives of being associated with a man like myself? If the word did get out 'bout it?" Your posture softens, you stay silent but nod with squinting eyes to show your thoughtfullness on the subject. "How many less evenings would you spend huffed up like an angry hen over men's disrespectful words if they thought they might also be facin' someone else's hand if they said such things to you?" 

Your mouth pouts in a thoughtful way, your eyes moving to the shadows the fire created. He has a point, and you had considered such things for a minut amount of time. However, your fierce knee jerk reaction to your attatchment to your independence had squashed the idea beneath its boot. But even if the word did get out...you ponder. You sigh and shake your head. You stay silent, because you know his point is entirely valid. Maybe a few years ago you couldn't have seen that. Blinded by ambitions unfulfilled. But now, your hard work starting to pay off, you find yourself tired of fighting sometimes. And you had been fighting for so long, hadn't you? Maybe the bond you could forge with this new layer to your relationship would be worth the trouble it would inevitably bring. Is Alfie Solomons and what he brings to the table worth it? Pretending it wouldn't be beneficial for you in the present is a laughable thought. But you couldn't just consider the present anymore, that was an old habit you'd worked too hard to silence. Your still alive impulsiveness stirs, wanting to cause you trouble. And you weren't the sort of girl who went looking and asking for trouble anymore, were you?

"I've considered the point before." you say quietly but clearly. "I really do appreciate your point of view. I do." you pause and sigh "But even with it..." 

He see's your boldness retreat in your eyes, he's found a wall he couldn't get through yet. He knew you well enough to know that pushing you wasn't the way to go with delicate things like this. But he had found out many things he'd yearned to hear from you tonight. Even if they weren't exactly what he had sought out originally. He leans forward as if to stand and turns his torso towards you as you scoot up towards him, his hands reaching out for yours. 

"You've had a long day, luv. Ya don't gotta bother yerself with it right now." He's leaned in close, speaking softly, to lull the hardness that's coming across your face. "I've kept ya up long enough." he says with a warm smile. "I hope I weren't overstepping no bounds by suggestin' such a thing." he says in a soft voice, you can't help but smile at his endearing whispers. 

"Don't be dull, Alfie." you say with a softer, still distracted smile. "You can talk to me about anything, you should know that." you insist with a shake of your head. "This doesn't change a thing, darling." 

He leans in to give you a kiss on the cheek. The whiskers of his mustache making you smile as they twitched against you lightly. "You get some rest, Genevieve." he says with a groan as he stands, shaking his legs before he starts to walk away. "Ya had a big night... so you make sure you don't push yerself." he adds in a huff, as if he's having a hard time delivering the caring thoughts into word form. 

"I won't. I'm knackered actually," you say stretching before you stand. "Bonne nuit, Alfie." you lilt, your back to him, making your way to your bed.

"Goodnight sweetheart." he says in a deep tone as he shuts the door behind him. 

He hadn't gotten what he sought, but he received a lot in compensation for his loss. You admitted you wanted to sleep with him. He knew you'd even thought it over enough to have answers that were clearly not off the top of your head. 'Not for lack of want' you'd said. He could work with that.


	26. Strange Desire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW. Graphic Sexual Content.   
> Song is Strange Desire by The Black Keys.

Alfie is sitting at the table, waiting for you to start dinner. He hears you and Claire speaking as you approach the dining room. He can't tell if you're angry until he see's your face but once he does he knows you are. He ducks his head down and starts to eat, avoiding the storm walking through the dining room.  
(In french)

"First the fucking flowers and now the players cancel!" you say with a groan. Your attention is drawn to Alfie, eyes indifferent, mouth chewing and looking at you as he did so. "At least we don't have to worry about Solomons keeping his contract." you say with a sigh, tossing a newspaper away from you to an empty seat.

"I 'eard me name." he says with a mouthful of food.

"Yes you did." you say with a sigh. "You're the only damn thing that's going right in this whole party planning process, dear. Everything else is falling right the fuck apart on me at the last minute." you say with a slight whine to your voice.

"Yeah ya birthday..." he says nodding. "'Checked the inventory to cover ya order today personally." he says, a smug grin on his face as he took another bite.

"You're the only man keeping his word to me in all of fucking London right now Alfie." you praise with a sweet tone and laugh, finding that you're enjoying yourself for the first time today you can recall. This lovely thought and your pondering his handsome face are interrupted as Claire pushes another piece of paper towards you.

"There's more to finalize." she states and you sigh, turning your attention back to her.

(In French)  
"Yes the food is finalized, that is all well good, but unless you want bare tables and silence I suggest we figure out who to go to for textiles and music. Otherwise your theme this year will be minimalism and not decadence." she adds in a low annoyed tone.

"I'm done for tonight Claire. I can't take this shit when I'm like this. I'm tired of being in a foul mood." you groan and roll your eyes.

"You get some mood swings and you're going to just give up on your birthday party you woke up after the one last year?" she says, her hands hitting her thighs after she angrily sets the stack of papers in her hand on the table.

"You're being as dramatic as I am, Claire. Let's just do it at breakfast. We're both in a shit mood and I'm too distracted to talk business anyway. My head is done with its persistent whirring in problem-solving and I'm ready to get back to my basic levels of function." you say with a tired expression.

"Base levels? That what you call it now? You made us take the long way home because of that beefy boob that washes his car, ya bitch in heat." she lets out an annoyed huff of a laugh but her eyes show a hint of amusement. "Out there in no shirt and his suspenders still on. I don't understand how your brain works sometimes. I just- How is that attractive?" she says shaking her hand at nothing.

You let out a low dumb laugh in response. "I can't help it, Claire Bear." you say in a lilted way, wrinkling your nose at her.

"Sure seems that way sometimes." she says, side-eyeing you with a smirk.

"I'm at that point, sweet heart, you know how I get," you say exasperated even with your own hormones. Knowing your monthly burden was getting closer, you could tell by how frustratingly horny you were. "All those damn men and their mouths in the negotiations this week." you groan loudly, looking up at the ceiling. "Then the bottom falling out of the party plans and it's all got my blood pumping so fast it's made me a damn mess." you say, resting your forehead on your arm on the table. 

"Get ahold of yourself ya cow." Claire says, knocking your shoulder with her hand. "Why don't you just go fuck yourself?" she tries to say it seriously but it stutters slightly in a subdued laugh.

"You know what?" you say raising your hands over your head and then plopping them back on the table. You get in her face, no actual malice to your voice at all, just the play fighting that became of Claire telling you get your shit together when you'd get carried away. "You're right. I think I will." you say low, your mouth set in a frown. 

"Get your fucking sleep you nocturnal beast, we have to do deal with this party in the morning!" she shouts, her tone very angry, but you know she's not. The looks on Alfie's face shows amusement and confusion. 

"I'm going to go take a bath!" you shout and stomp your foot, a chuckle breaking through. Alfie face looks like he might be picking up on what's happening but you aren't sure. "I'm going to go sip some wine and I'm going to have a wonderful time!" you say, hands on your hips, making a "Hmmph" of a sound as you spin on your heel and swing your hips in the direction of your room.

"I'll have the maids bring the wine you lush! Don't drink too much, you'll get a headache." she says with a bite to her words.

"MERCI! I didn't plan on it." you shriek in a, you think, convincing way before you start giggling behind your bedroom door. Poor Alf, you thought to yourself, living in a house with the likes of you when you acted like this.   
\---------------------------------------------------  
He's at your door again. His nostrils flare as his nose twitches, shoulders rolling as he wets his lips and stares at the doorknob. With you storming out of the dining room in the fashion that you did, it compelled his feet to bring him here whether his conscience was telling him to or not. He slowly blinks. He had a reason to check on you. Just fucking knock on the door Solomons, he swore at himself.

He hit the door with enough force that he knows he won't second guess the noise he makes. He hears nothing. He's fairly certain you're in your room. Wondering what mood you might've shifted to since the hours that have passed since dinner. His hand sweats on the knob of your elaborately decorated door. Why was he finding opening a door, a simple task, so impossible? 

He see's you spread out on the floor in front of your fireplace. You're stretched on piles of pillows, a plush fur currently works as the backdrop for your glowing skin, barely masked by an untied robe against the light of the fire and the darkness of the rest of the room. He thinks you asleep as you do not stir. He approaches, he can't help but want to rake his eyes over your exposed hip and thigh, running down to your delicate feet with the blood red paint on the toes. He tilts his head, thinking it suits you as you resemble a predatory feline, stretched out on a limb, blood on her claws. Your voice snaps him out of his heavy-lidded stare.

"What are you doing, Solomons?" you ask in slow, low voice.

"I was comin' in to see how you were after you left tea like ya did." he says defensively.

"So you stood in silence?" you say sarcastically.

You hear him sigh, "I'm only a man, Genevieve, yeah? So forgive me for staring directly into temptation." 

You hum and nod, "You are only a man, aren't you?" you say staring into the fire. "A woman can forget such things." you say with a small forced exhale in consideration of the words. "You are just a man." you say in a tighter tone, your eyes narrowing. Sure he had power to wield but, underneath that, take away all the labels, he was just another human looking for someone to help make life a little easier. Take away some of that stress, make your nights more fun. Maybe you'd blown this whole idea out of proportion. It wouldn't be the first time you'd done such a thing. You weren't the same woman you were when you made the promise to yourself to not sleep with anyone. You were respected now, a legitimate businesswoman, successful and independent. You frown at the thought that you'd be proving him right by giving in but, was that really that bad of a consequence? Compared to the other consequences your mind cooked up, it was heavenly. You were aware of the same ache you felt the last time you were alone with him like this. You didn't give in then, but this time you were sober. This is a good idea you tell yourself, closing your eyes for a moment. You wouldn't do it if it wasn't one. You didn't make bad, impulsive decisions anymore. This certainly wasn't impulsive at this point and it making you feel like you were behaving badly was part of the allure. You felt a rush of heat over your skin and you knew it wasn't from the fire. The icy tingle left in its wake let you know that.

"What are you on about?" he asks, tempting you further to give in, to be honest. "I don't know if I should feel insulted or not and I'd like some clarification." in a more playful tone. You turn your head and shoulders, looking up at him for a moment where he stood behind you. 

"Don't worry." you say as you rise to your feet, tieing your robe loosely. "Not an insult." you say with a sultry glance that passes over him and makes the muscles in his neck tense. You walk away from the fire, closer to the seating surrounding it, your eyes adjusting to the darkness. Best to draw him in, you muse to yourself, teeth biting the inside of your lip. "Where would you like to do it?" you ask, spinning around, arms crossed under your breasts, one hand gesture with a casual ease at the question.

"Fuckin' what?" he says, his voice higher pitched, brow lowering at you. 

"What you came in here for." you state plainly, your face set in a challenging expression, your eyes burning at him. 

"I thought I came in here to see if you was alright after stormin' off at tea." he says slowly, that drag to his gruff tone, that inquisitive look thriving behind his eyes. 

"You come in making claims of being a man after watching me practically naked until I coaxed you to speak. That was not the impression that was left upon me." you say, face set in that seductive stone way he remembered from your first negotiation, thankful to see it now in the shifting light from the fire as it played across your features. You walk towards him, heel-toe with your hips and shoulders moving together in an almost serpentine fashion.

"My statement still stands." he says but you feel his voice waiver and you know he's not telling the whole truth.

"I know that's what you're telling me." your eyes squint with emphasis to your words, you come to a stop just short of reaching him. "And that may even be what you're lying to yourself with now. After my objection to your suggestion of the new path we go down together," you say with regret in your tone that he does not look over. You reach your hands out towards him, his head immediately turns so he can side-eye your fingers as they tense themselves around the chest of his shirt. "But I believe that offer to still be open." your eyes meet his, "Is it not?" you ask with a bat of lash, a tiny flick of your tongue on your bottom lip that causes him to take an inhale so large he tries to downplay the involuntary nature of the action by clearing his throat. 

"It...very much is, sweetheart." his voice is smooth and dark and what you'd imagined when you thought of him at night. 

"So I'll give you another chance to tell me the real reason you've come to my room. Alone. In the middle of the night." your bat your lashes and take a quick breathily exhale the word, "Again." your eyes that roll up to his tell him you'd seen him stand before your door on those nights he thought he'd gone unnoticed. 

His eyes narrow from the lower lid in an almost defensive expression as his chin pushed to his chest, his face burning from the realization you'd known of the nights you'd worked his resolve down and into non-existence, leaving him weak at the feet of your intentional, and not, seductions. Leading him to your door like a scolded, apologetic dog. Feeling much the same after retreating cowardly back to his bed, defeated and succumbing to his weakness of craving to know you in the biblical sense. 

The way your eyes beamed at him with the intention behind them that he'd wanted to see directed at him on those nights, told him you wanted him to cross that line. "What I really wanted to ask you, eh?" he says, his shoulders squaring up against your smaller form, his neck snaking as he spoke down to you. 

"Oui." you bite back against the energy this bear of a man is drowning you in currently. You can feel his skin radiating with a magnetic warmth. His pupils were blown and you assume yours looked much the same from the causes of light and lust. 

You see he likes the way you've chosen to egg him on. "I really wanted to ask why you'd gone soft."

"Soft?" you ask in a huff of a laugh.

"Yeah." he says in a harsh way, his face leaning in and invading your personal face. "The Genevieve I thought I knew, yeah? She didn't get concerned in others opinions of her, just took what she wanted." he looks back down at you. Your eyes smolder and your nostrils flare as his hands keep almost grazing your face and neck. "I don't know why you were lettin' anyone get in the way of somefin' you very clearly...need." he says with a grit that makes you take a large inhale you couldn't control. His eyes told you of how badly he wanted to give you the things you needed. "And you's a clever little thing, ain't ya?" he says, his upper lip leaving way to show teeth in a microexpression resembling a snarl. "Yeah. You are. 'Cause you know you're fuckin' gorgeous yeah?" he says with a sudden movement that shoots a tingle down your head and spine to the center of your legs as his hand runs down your cheek, he thumbs your bottom lip before he retreats his hand as he speaks. "And you know I am but a man, sweetheart." his voice turns and his hand moves to your hip as he closes the space between you. "No way I could resist a sin in the flesh like you, eh?" he says, his brow softening as other parts of you both harden at his confession. "Had no chance in fuckin' hell at not letting myself get carried away with those thoughts that led me to you on those nights, did I?" he says, his fingertips holding your hip steady as his other mirrors it. His hands slide back and grab your ass hard before his hands start to roam back up your body. "You had me with my tongue fuckin' lollin' out me mouth like some hungry fuckin' pup dinnit ya." he growls, sending your hairs on end and shooting a thrill through you as his hands move up your ribs, just under your breasts. "Havin' to sneak glaces at these magnificent tits when I just wanted to ruin those expensive dresses of yours to get my fuckin' hands on 'em." he lets out a deep grunt from deep within his chest, making your jaw clench as that sound hits you as he pants over your chest. "You make a man want to eat you up, luv. Fuckin' delectable, you are." he groans, teeth clenching as his eyes glaze at the pleasure of getting to drink in a good, long look at you without the hinderence of fear of judgment. 

"Working the flattery angle?" you whisper back with a smirk at him. 

"I'm gonna be workin' you from a fuckin' angle." he growls almost playfully, his hands moving to knead your chest. You let out a deep chuckle and bite your lip, you feel the weight and warmth from his hands through the soft fabric and you hum in support of his actions, eyes fluttering at him. "That what you want? You agreeing to the terms we discussed last time we had this conversation?" he asks in a condescending tone. 

"A skilled negotiator even in moments like these?" you ask, licking your lips at him, a sultry smile sits on them. 

"It's not the only skill set I have, sweetheart." he says, his eyes looking over your body hungrily. "Ya gonna let me show you, eh?" he whispers, words chipping away at your composure, his nose trailing up your cheek to your ear. "That what you want, Genevieve?" One hand trailing to your hip, thumb rubbing circles against your bones. "Want me to proper fuck you?" he coos devilishly. His hand moves between your thighs to press against you, the weight and heat through the silk making you give up a small moan at the sudden action. "You needin' a good fuckin' seein' to, innit ya?" you shut your eyes as they roll back in your head for a moment. 

"Yes." you hiss out as his face moves back to yours. "That's exactly what I need." you say softly with a nod.

"I can give that to ya, luv," he groans, his mouth moving across your chest, his arms tight around your waist as he breathes heavily, kissing and sucking languidly.

"Then give it to me." you purr with a suggestive glance. "Give me what I want since you claim to know." you taunt with a whisper as he slowly tightens his grip into a fist, holding your hair. "Make good on all those filthy promises and fuck me." you command, even with the way the last words fade as his mouth engulfs your own. 

The combined sound of both of your breathing was now the loudest thing in the room. You both buck against the other, your hands eagerly ruined the slick hair he'd styled as your mouths hit against each other like the two great opposing forces you are. You were riding high on his promises and the way his tongue worked against yours, the way it made your eyes shut and roll, working moans and groans out of you with it's skill. His own rumbling from deep in his chest, rolls thick across your skin and feels like it's slowly dripping down, gathering power at the apex of your thighs. 

You feel his breath hot against your ear, his hands now roaming your body, grabbing at your breasts and thighs. You reach down to run a flat palm up and down the front of his trousers, causing you to suck on your own bottom lip as you feel him twitching and growing as he lets his words do all his work for him to thoroughly seduce you. "I'm movin' ya over to that bed," he says, his mouth moving up your jaw and ear and his silky words rub against you in a way you'd forgotten words could. "You're going to take this robe off and I'm going get all over these big fuckin' tits of yours." he groans, rubbing his thumbs over your erect nipples, "And since you're already soaking through this robe," he says in a deep, masculine chuckle, his hand massaging your inner thigh, moving to rub you through the fabric, a lazy back and forth that made you hum and bite your lip, looking up at him with dark eyes. "I know you want me to just stuff this cock into that wet, little cunt, don't ya, you wicked thing." he growls at you, making a mischievous smile appear on your face. "And you are drippin' sweetheart," he whispers against your ear, the rough pads of his fingers dragging up your inner thigh and seamlessly sliding between your pussy lips with a knowing pressure across your swollen clit drawing a soft gasp as he presses a wet kiss to your neck. "And it is tight. Innit, luv?" he groans, his fingers pressing into you. You tense and moan at the action, not letting your knees knock. "Fuck, you're going to feel like heaven around this cock, ain't ya?" his teeth sink into your neck, his tongue following after, feeling the speed of your pulse beneath it, following suit with his fingers.

You can't help but gasp with a fluttering of lashes at the feeling of something besides your own fingers inside you. You mewl and moan while under the influence of his words and fingers, letting your head fall to the side, your eyes closing as his strong hands held you when your weight shifted. You let out a lustful hum of agreement. "Alfie," comes out as a mumble through your moans his rhythmic fingers were drawing from you. "As welcome as your fingers are." you hum in your rising lust, eyes weighted and looking into his, "...tonight I'm going to..." his rocking movements bring a wave of pleasure over you to make you moan and pause, "Mmph I need you to..." his thumb sweeps over your clit as the smugness for having broken your speaking skills is beamed upon you from his face, "Fuck, I just...I want..." your brow furrows in defiance, "It's been too fucking long." you groan with insistence. "Don't waste time with fingers when I what I really need is you. Hard. In every sense of the word." you confess, your voice breathy, your fingers sinking into the tensing muscles of his back and ass. 

"Fuck no, darlin', no teasin', not tonight." he groans out the words, planting kisses across your neck and shoulders. "But I gotta make sure you can take me don't I?" you moan at the allusion as you squirm with impatience for the stretch. He speaks as if he's read your mind, the snarl of your lip giving hint to your masochism. "I ain't gonna tease ya, am I? Not when I've gotta make you fall apart around my cock, yeah?" he says higher pitched, his tone in agreement. "Gotta find out what makes 'is body tick, dunnit I?" he drags his tongue across your collarbones and your head lolls about your shoulders like a rag doll as his fingers knead into your back, his face rubbing back and forth across your breasts, groaning as your skin is bared. His face moves the soft fabric away from your body. His fingers withdraw to circle your clit as your bottom lip starts to tremble at it's affects on you. "And repeat it until I can't recognize you trembling beneath me." he moves back roughly to suck on your neck as his fingers press as deeply as they can into you, probing your walls for intelligence so he made the image he's painting in your head a reality. "That's what you want, innit Genevieve?" he shakes his head and growls, withdrawing his fingers as you moan and nod, he starts to move you towards the bed, arms dragging you about like it was nothing.

"Fuck yes, that's what I want." you groan at him in strung out tone, his hands holding your forearms tightly in his big hands, moving you quickly to the edge of your huge bed. "Your respectful nature with me has served you well, hasn't it?" you give him a look that makes his cock push against the confines of his trousers. "But I implore you not let that nature second guess your natural inclinations in your treatment of me tonight." you whisper in a dark tone against his lips as he pauses his fingers, lightly fidgeting their way down the edges of your robe to the loose knot tied there. You beat his hands to it, sliding over his and slowly pulling one of the edges of silk ribbon, the robe opening just slightly as it relaxes, the ends caressing your thighs as you sit on the edge of the bed before him and shamelessly slipped the robe off your shoulders. 

Despite how wet you already knew you were by the air hitting you as the robe was in a puddle around your hips, the look in his eyes as they clumsily ran their way down your body, his mouth opening, lip bouncing under his bottom row of teeth assured you became even more so. His tongue ran across the thick bottom lip, making you drip at the sight of him dropping to his knees in front of you. He pulls you closer, your knees spreading, sliding under his arms as he wraps his hands around your waist and takes in the sight of you before him. 

"Fuckin' 'ell." he says with a slur to his words, his hands moving to your chest as he moans, rubbing his face between your breasts, you can't help but smile as he almost playfully squeezes them around his face with a happy grunt. The innocent intentions are soon lost as you catch sight of those lips, cohorts with his lapping tongue, moving to engulf a tight nipple, his hot breath fanning against your skin as he panted in this enthusiasm for the task.

He cycles through the sucking, biting, licking, panting one too many times for your impatient, aching center. "More of that later." you say with a smile. His eyes roll up to meet yours, mouth still attached to your breast. He lets out a groan of acknowledgment. 

"Ya makin' me greedy ya so fuckin'..." he hums and moves up your body, kissing you and wrapping his arms around you to move you up the bed and set back you back down. "..mmmph, gorgeous." he mumbles into your mouth between biting kisses. You reach up to unbutton his shirt, thankful he was already in his pajamas as your fingers could make quick work over the silken fabric, as soon as your fingers arch over his shoulders to his back, stripping the shirt from him he already has his pants off and is diving back on top of you. 

Your knees are dropped back and open as his hips rest against yours, his mouth biting over your nipples again before his hand finds your face and his lips meet yours. You reach between your bodies, your slender fingers wrapping around him. In your willingness to let go and indulge in what seemed to be very promising sex, you let out a moan that lilts into a whine, your eyes shifting to half-lidded as you wet your lips at the feel of him hot and hard against your hand. "Mmmm...Alfie." you mewl against him with enthusiasm for what you've found him to be endowed with. You stroke over the velvet feel of him, causing his hips to buck as you tugged him to the rhythm he kissed you with. You shift your shoulder to reach down for his balls which he was not prepared for. A grunt from deep in his chest huffs out against your lips. 

"Fuckin', ung," he groans into your mouth, tongue lashing against yours a few moments before he pulls back with a hiss as you trail your nails up his balls and gently to the head of his cock, thumb lazily rubbing his pre-cum in circles cause him to resituate his hips, as you move your hand from him. He slowly rocks himself back and forth between your lips to cause a frictionless surface from your slick. He moves his lips to your neck as he pushes against your tight entrance.

You nod, as he breathes heavily in anticipation against your neck and ears, closing your eyes and trying to relax as you knew it had been so long since you've had sex that it didn't matter how wet you were, you were going to be feeling him tomorrow. His lips slow against the bend of your neck as you feel him take a deep breath, feeling it travel across your neck and shoulders, causing you to shudder as his head notches into you, eliciting a small grunty whine. He turns his attention to you, his lips on your earlobe with a soft kiss.

"'Right luv?" he rasps into your ear. You nod rapidly and turn your lips to his, your body craving the physical connection. You suck his bottom lip into your mouth, tugging him playfully to kiss you back and he obliges you with a lustful groan. 

"More." you insist, feeling his lips smile against yours as he does as you command. As he pushes into you, your theory of the curve of him being complimentary to your shape was proven correct as his hardness pushes slowly against your walls. "Fuck, Solomons." you moan out from deep within your chest as you hit the thickest part of him, your mouth falling open and trembling against his. "If I ever call you thick again you'll have to wonder as to the interpretation." you say with an amusement and lust in your voice as you writhe beneath him. He bites your lip and gives you a cheeky growl, brow furrowed as he pushed deeper still. He finally stills, you feel his inner thighs rest solidly against yours "Fuck." you moan out again, your chest rising and falling as you let your head fall back, shamelessly basking in pleasure the fullness him. 

"That a command or an expletive, darling?" he asks with a cheeky growl as he nips his way to your neck, preparing to pull out of you and keep his promises of making you fall apart. 

"Both." you groan, lip twitching in a snarl as you roll your hips against him. 

He huffs a laugh that he releases into the hollow of your throat, placing a kiss in its place as he pulls out of you. Shifting the momentum of his hips and bury himself fully inside you again. Bless that curve in his cock you thought as your swollen and sensitive insides are manipulated by it, pushing against your favorite places inside you. 

Your long exhale is littered with swears as he starts his steady pace, his hands on your breasts, mouth moving to them quickly as he held them together and was hypnotized by their bouncing to the rhythm of the pulses he sent through your body. Every time his mouth opens to lap away at your nipples an obscene moan escaping from his wet lips that your voice responds to in matched enthusiasm and makes your fingernails dig deeper into his arms. He lays his body against yours, hips still working away between your thighs, he kisses up your chest to your neck, hand roaming and groping your ass and hips. His fingers finding their way to your hair to tighten in fists and the make you gasp in weakness. Once his mouth travels back to yours, his body rubbing you in the right ways you need as his weight presses down, you whimper into his mouth which he drowns the sound with his assaulting tongue. "You feel so fucking good, Alfie" you admit, voice strung out and hungry, your fingers on his jaw and hand on his back. You cry this out into his mouth as he pumps away harder at you. You groan and arch your back, swearing again as you hear his breaths punctuated with huffs as he shakes your body with his hips thrusts. You moan and roll your eyes, feeling the waves he was sending through you reach closer to capacity. You didn't know if you were getting off so quickly from how badly you'd needed it or if it was just him.

"You feel even better." he groans into your mouth as you pass back and forth with sloppy kisses and messy tongues with no rhythm, broken as you both swear and call out, both starting to fray around the edges. Your body rewards his praise by tightening around him and he exhales heavily, his shoulders slumping with a gravel laiden "Fuuuuck."

"Plus fort." you moan out loudly, starting to fade into French in your bliss. "Donne le moi. Plus fort" He growls in response.

"You're makin' me weak with that tongue." he says, his hand slapping your hip enthusiastically. You clench around him again and he groans, his forehead pressed against yours. 

"Harder," you say in a deep command, your brow furrowing against his. "Faire moi jouir." you cry out the words with every pound of his hips he gives you. Your eyes cross as he grabs your hip and changes his angle. He's met with a long multi-note moan escaping an open panting mouth under fluttering eyes. 

"That's it, pet." his voice groans, rolling with his thrusts, eyes shut and losing himself as he senses you're close. He swears again, moving faster towards his limit for just how good you feel. Knowing he's too far gone, he reaches down between your bodies, thumb now rubbing on your clit, paced with his forceful pumps. "Takin' this cock like a fuckin' dream, ain't ya?"   
Your face contorts, brow plunging down low, your back arching in a quick whip movement, as he feels your thighs start to tremble. A rumble grows in his chest.

"Oh mon Dieu," you whine, your hands starting to shake. "Alfie." you rasp out, your pink swollen lips beckoning him closer. "Tu me feras jouir." you pant against his mouth that's currently trying to devour you with kisses and breathy moans. "Don't stop." you gasp out, your face moving up to meet his, both your eyes matched in their darkness, blown from lust. "Fuck right there." you choke out, your moans moving to a high pitch, he feels you start to squeeze around him. "N'arete pas de me baiser." you growl, his hand whose thumb was still circling your swollen clit insistently, pushes down and holds your hip in place as he put a flourish on the end of his performance to make you scream for him. His hand holds the side of your face roughly, thumb controlling your chin, making you look at him. You swing your head towards his thumb, enthusiastically sucking it into your mouth. It triggers a sinful moan of your name from him, shifting his approach as he bears down and hits you with a force that knocks your head back, breasts bouncing every time he connected with a slap. "Yes, fucking more, yes." you say with an aggression behind your eyes, your fingers holding tight in his chest hair, demanding his complete attention. 

He memorizes that look in your eyes right before he feels you start to pulse so hard around him. It felt like years he'd been waiting to get to see that blissed-out look on your face. Your eyes roll back, a sharp inhale, his thumb released from your delicious mouth with an obscene pop. Your body convulses, he groans and swears, feeling the way your body trembles as he holds you through it. A hand on between your shoulders blades guides you through the intense reaction he's caused. The combination of your eyes rolling back up to meet his, desperate and unfocused as they watched him move in time above you. Your mouth moaning out his name against his lips is a completely unfair move that causes the look on his face it felt like it'd been years you'd been waiting for. 

As you both lay in the afterglow. The moans and hips have slowed and stopped, but he keeps kissing you. You weren't typically one to stay connected for so long after you get off but the way he moved so slowly made the coming down and post orgasm aftershocks a much more pleasurable experience. 

"Alfie?" you softly exhale, your voice a touch hoarse, his lips still manipulating yours.

"Mmmph?" he grunts in response, not ceasing his actions.

"Alfie. Cheri. I need to. Get up." you say with your words interrupted by his lips each time. You can't help but become amused at the man's persistence. 

"Eh." he makes a dissatisfied sound, kissing your jaw. "What for?" he asks, another kiss placed on your neck. 

"I have to wee if you must know." you say with a small snort. As he lifts himself up on his hands and looks down at you, to say you're a fan of the sight above you would be an understatement. 

"Well that's a real excuse innit?" he says with a lazy smile, rolling off of you and plopping onto his side on the bed. 

"'Tis." you grin at him, looking at him over your shoulder before you stand with a stretch and feel the looseness in your hips as you sway to the bathroom. 

"Genevieve?" You hear him call out as you're peeing.

"Are you really yelling at me while I'm having a wee?" you ask with faux offense. You hear his laughter follow yours. 

"I 'spose I am yeah. Seein' as I was just inside ya an all I didn't think it that wild of an offense." he calls out, you stand in the doorway, your hand on the molding of the archway. 

"Our mess not even dry between my legs and you're making me regret this agreement." you say with a big mischievous grin on your face as you sway towards him.

"Well, I'm right sorry to hear that, love." he says, grabbing you and pulling you onto the bed beside him. You let out an annoyed mewl and oof as he lays you on your back at his side. You look up at him, both sets of yours eyes twinkling at each other. "'Cause it might be the best fuckin' deal I ever made." he growls as his mouth attacks your chest, his strong hands on your ribcage as you try and fail at holding in your laughter at his childish behavior.


	27. Livin' In Sin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW All sexual content.  
> Song is Livin' In Sin by Dan Auerbach

He wakes up next to you in the biggest bed he’s ever slept in. He was pulling himself from a dream about you. He was looking for you, he kept hearing you saying his name. But as he rubs his eyes and looks over at you, he realizes you’d been saying his name in your sleep and it’s woken him up. He brings his arms up in a stretch, settling his hands behind his head, taking in the sight before him.

You were sleeping on your stomach, hands near your face, arms out just enough for him to see the curve of your breast underneath you. Your hair loose and wild, going down your back, almost reaching your bum, some thrown haphazardly above your head onto the pillows. Your face was uncovered except for the tips of your fingers near your mouth, where his attention was being drawn to. Your lips puff out in an exhale of his name. He feels his heart and his cock stir, withdrawing a noisy sigh from his lips.

Your brow twitches and furrows, your back arches and you let out a tiny grunt of a moan, his eyes go back to half-lidded after trying to wake up. He moves closer, you stir but only moan in a high pitched, sweet little sound. His hand reaches out, his fingers lightly tracing down your back and to your thighs. Your hips move, your ass being pushed back towards him slightly as a little gasp escapes your lips. He hums greedily at the sound. Your shoulders shift, your face moving away from him, giving him your back, he grins wolfishly, sliding in behind you.

Your nose twitches as your eyes think about opening. You are are stumbling out of a rather steamy dream when you start to notice how warm you feel. You stretch and grunt finding big lean arms around your stomach and over your head. As you shift he moves an arm under your head.

“Mmmph.” you offer as a greeting. You shift your hips, to settle back into the covers as you feel an unmistakable heat resting between the cheeks of your ass and you hum in amusement. No wonder that dream had gotten particularly hot.

“You talk in ya sleep a lot?” he whispers, his voice still full of grit from sleep, in a slow delivery that adds a certain sauciness to anything said in it.

“Mmm?” you ask, rolling onto your back to look up at him, moving your hair out of the way.

“You were sayin’ my name in yer sleep.” he rumbles out, a lazy smile, clearly caused by his words comes across unfiltered on your face.

“I was dreamin’ ‘bout you.” you mumble, fingers moving to fuss with his wild hair, sticking out in every direction, it looks charmingly boyish and you hum at how it makes your breath hitch for a moment as you become aware of Alfie’s large hand on your stomach.

“I could tell.” he says in the same tone that makes you take a slow inhale. His eyes move from yours to your lips, zigzagging across your body until they reach the hair at the apex of your thighs. The fingers on his hand twitch.

“Could you tell how well you were fucking me by my words in my sleep?” you ask, face moving in a slow and sultry way towards him.

“You just said my name,” he informs, his eyes watching his hand move down your stomach. “But those saucy little moans told me I weren’t doing too bad.” he drags out the word, fingers playing in your curls for a moment before his fingertips trace up your inner thighs. You hum at the detour he’s taken with a smug look on your face.

“Mornin’ sex something you fancy often?” you ask, licking your lips.

“When I wake up to somefin’ like this moanin’ me name ya betta fuckin’ believe I fancy it.” he playful growls into your neck, you let out a breathy laugh as his words to kisses against your skin.

He slides his fingers between your thighs, wiggling them down to your lips, making your thighs rub together as he tickled you unintentionally. “C'mon luv, chuckle” he groans in that deep tone that he’s learning you love. He knocks your knees apart with his hand. “Ya know ya ain’t gonna regret spreadin’ these legs as long as I’m between 'em, eh?” his teeth graze across your jaw and you hum an indulgent moan.

“Keep provin’ yourself right.” you say with an amused sound, “But you have left me proper sore from last night, darling.” you say in a sigh, raising up on your elbow on your side to face him. His fingers still search out the crease in your thigh, his thumb pushing against your sensitive lips.

“Oh I can be gentle, sweetheart.” he says leaning in to kiss you as his hand moves to cup you, slowly massaging your sore muscles.

“I appreciate the gesture but gentle’s not really what I need.” you say, fluttering your eyelashes at him. His eyebrows raise, looking you over, highly curious look on his face. You yank the covers off of both of you, you bite your lip at the sight of his cock twitch as you turn to crawl towards him.

“What’s this now?”

“Stick out your tongue.” you instruct in a sweet tone, moving pillows around his head, your breasts hanging about his face as he nips at one as you move and chuckle at his enthusiasm.

“Am I allowed to ask why?” he asks, his charming grin with shown teeth as his eyes keep you in their crosshairs.

You speak as you move to straddle his chest, earning a very deep grunt from him. You sit perched, your hands running slowly up and down your body from your thighs to chest, shifting your hips slightly and rolling your nipples in your fingers. The look in his eyes is hungry and you’re here to oblige.

“Why? Because your fat cock has left this poor dear sore from that proper fucking you gave her last night,” you say in a delightfully pouty sort of way, a single fingertip tapping the tip of his nose and running slowly down his lips and to his chest. “That’s why. So now, I’m going to sit on that handsome face and you’re gonna lap up this cunt until I’m ready to take on that thick prick of yours again.” you say with no hesitancy, no shyness, and just the bold tone in your knowing that he would do what you were saying.

“Fuck me.” he whispers, the words dragging out, full of hitches and grit. His expression giving away how much pleasure he took from the sound of your words. The filthy plans pouring out of your mouth and down over him like the burn of good alcohol make his cock twitch and his mouth drop open. His eyes, wide but dark languidly take in the sight of your feminine face saying such aggressive things and with such certainty that he would obey. What had he done to deserve this, he wondered? Your confidence never lacking, you were performing in a way, and for no reason other than your own enjoyment, at a higher tier than women he’d ever paid for similar services. Perhaps what he’d really been missing with those women, was the genuine enthusiasm for the task. He was thankful to be having sex again without the thought of money being involved at all.

His hands groped up your body, grabbing a handful of your ass roughly, his lip bitten as he groans from the ache of your words rolling over him, just like his hips were subconsciously doing. His eyes look slightly dazed as they show signs of weakness he isn’t bothering hiding from you.

“I intend to.” you say in a hushed, entirely too sweet tone, smirking at him.

His arms reach behind you and grab you, yanking you down the rest of the way onto his face, your hands hitting the headboard to catch yourself. He makes contact with a ravenous growl that makes a blush comes across your face. 

You lean back, his hands groping your ass as your knees are spread beside his head. You can see those pouty lips, overshadowed by a wicked tongue that sweeps broad and slowly up and down your center. Your breath hitches, the aggression lost in your eyes for now. You lean up, holding yourself over his face, your thighs on his cheeks, his hands kneading your hips as his eyes shut and his tongue went to work. He flicked your clit, moving down to suck and maneuver his tongue into the soreness he’d happily left in his wake from the night before. He hears a slight gasp from you.

“Mmm sore cheri, remember?” you moan softly out, hands holding your breasts as your chest starts to rise and fall more noticeably. “Clit first, then you’ll get to eat it.” you say in a seductively teasing tone, your fingers gently tracing over the planes of his face that were exposed to you still.

“Mmmm.” you hear in response, heading back to your clit as your thighs seize around his head for a moment. He lets out a dark and content growl, those soft lips suctioned around your clit, making your hands shake, sending them back to the headboard. His hands move up to your breasts, you’re met with more hungry fast head motions and broad licks across your throbbing center as he pinches and flicks his way to make you moan out his name.

“Your tongue.” you whine. “Fuck me with your-” he obeys before you clear the command, a slow process he excelled at. You give him a back arching moan in return for his obedience, his eyes fluttering behind their lids as you moved against his face. Your hand moves on top of his on your breast, your other hand holding his messy hair tightly at the crown causing a harsh smack to your ass from him, and an enthusiastic wet sucking noise from his tongue being exactly where you needed it. “That’s a good boy.” you hum devilishly with your lip bitten between your teeth, hips rocking against his face, hair tightly gripped in your hand. He moans, panting against your clit, hands still kneading away at you like dough, with the occasional slap and growl thrown in when you’d shudder.

He’s enveloped in heaven between your legs. The muscle of your ass serving a perfect grip to move you back and forth as you moaned his name so softly as if you had delicate sensibilities he could offend. The vibrations from his growls make you shudder as you mewled and tightened your grip on his hair.

“Keep that fucking tongue out.” you whine above him, your hands trembling in his hair, your thighs squeeze his head again and he digs deeper inside you, knowing you’re close as he feels you getting tighter around him. You have that sharp intake of breath right before you’re about to tumble over the edge, you let out a whispered string of swears. As the rhythm in your hips starts to flutter and you call out his name as if to warn him. He holds you tightly against him, your hands reaching down to hold his wrists as your hips bucked against him as he manipulated the pleasure out of you.

His eyes flutter open as your hips slow to a lazy indulgent roll, his lips now kissing your inner thighs, sucking the sensitive skin and popping his mouth off of you. “Lucky me your words aren’t the only thing that mouth is good at.” you say, a praising smile on your face, holding his gaze before letting out a noisy exhale. You roll off of him swiftly, landing on your knees and quickly moving with a hop on the soft sheets back towards him. He’s distracted by the way your heavy breasts knock together as you lean in towards him. “You’ve been a good boy, haven’t you Alfie?” you purr, crawling on top of him, your hips just above his.

“I’m gonna choose to lie and say I 'ave.” he says with a cocky grin. You hum happily at him, a nod with the bitten lip of amusement for him. Your fingers tracing his lips and wiping his beard. Your fingers bury themselves in the scruff as you kiss him with purpose.

“Smart man. Good boys get rewards.” you whisper against his lips before nipping at the bottom one. He lets out a low ill-intentioned laugh.

“Then I best get to behavin’, eh?” he says with a cheeky shake of his head and you grin at him, kissing him again, his hands moving to your hips. You place lingering wet kisses on his lips where they are met with content hums. You suck down in sensitive places across his neck and down his chest, following a downward path that seems to make his ache inducing moans to grow louder. Your hands move slowly across his torso as you kiss your way down him to his hip bones, fingers grazing over his nipples and dragging down his ribs. You push off of him, to crawl backward on all fours down him, much to his delight as his knees wiggle, eyes drunkenly taking you in as you slowly drag your breasts across him, across his hot, twitching cock as you moved between his legs. You kiss the inside of his knee as he tilts his head down at you, his lip not moving from between his teeth as he grunts when your lips graze the touch starved skin of his inner thighs. You run your hands up and down them, up to his hips to calm the twitching muscles. He groans your name as you look up your lashes as him, mouth hovering over his straining length.

You wouldn’t say you’re someone who got hung up about the size of someone’s cock that you were sleeping with. But now that you got to indulge yourself fully, taking in every velvety bit of him with your eyes as you let your breath carry over him. This causes him to twitch as he bounces against your lips and you let out a small amused hum at him that makes him grunt impatiently. You were always more excited when your partner had more girth to offer and that certainly seemed to be what you were getting your mouth around this morning. Seeing as you don’t believe your fingers would be able to touch if they tried to get around him. What you were even more excited for than the stretch he had to offer, was the curve of him. As he stood pulsing at attention, you imagine that this magnificent instrument of his was going to make a fool of you once you got on top of it. You weren’t even sure if you could handle having a cock that hit all your spots that also has a man attached that has the ability to respect you. You become very aware of your pulse pounding between your legs.

You dip your head to place your hands and mouth on his balls, as his eyes roll back in his head, head knocking back against pillows. You settle, ass up, nose buried at the base of his cock as he swears in inventive ways as your tongue lazily drags back and forth across his balls, other hand splayed and rubbing up to his stomach and chest.

As you make your way up his length with your hyperextended tongue, his eyes darken and focus on yours. “Oh he liked that, didn’t he?” you purr in a low tone, lips ghosting across the hardness as you speak, his hips threatening to buck. “You are throbbing and you are not even in my mouth yet.” you say in an almost patronizing tone as you take the tip of him in, one hand resting at the base of him, the other still cupping his balls.

“Fuckin’ 'ell Genevieve.” he groans out, muscles in his stomach rolling as his hips wanted to roll with them.

You take him entirely down slowly, his hands moving and grabbing the sheets. You add your hand to the motions, tugging and sucking at him in unison as he swears under his breath, his hips thrusting up. You slide him messily out of your mouth, looking back into his eyes. “Use your hands.” your lips on the head of his cock, you murmur against him as you take his hand and put it in your hair. He takes your suggestion very seriously as he starts to slowly move your head, hips sliding himself in and out of you, almost frictionless as his growls grow louder and his hips go faster. He pulls you off with one hand fisting your hair as you gasp and your eyes flutter open, Your mouth open and panting, tongue still stuck out of your mouth. A sinful smile spreading across your face of a woman who was entirely enjoying herself. That gleam in your eye, this obscene behavior from you from was enough to make him dizzy.

“Dirty girl.’ he groans, giving your head a slight shake by your hair. You bite your lip and wrinkle your nose with a nod in a fiesty rebuttal, licking your lips and sliding loose of his grip. You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, expanding the space between the two of you. You grab his legs behind the knee and yank him farther down the bed, his cock bouncing at the motion. "Well fuck me, Genny.” he mumbles, hands landing back on the bed eyes wide at your strength as you giggle girlishly as your stalk like a jungle cat towards him.

“C'mere handsome.” you say with a nod, straddling him, rubbing your soaking, aching center across the hard length of him.

“Fuckin’ gorgeous creature, you are.” he rasps out, his hands running up your thighs to your breasts. You purr in content at him, eyes almost sweet as you reach between your legs, guiding the head of him into you. He swears quietly, as he watches you take him inside you. Your mouth, wet and pink and open, lips trembling as you let out small breathy moans as you lowered yourself onto him.

You hum and pulse your hips, eyes opening again as you settle against him, biting your lip in focus. “Shit, Alfie.” you say as if he’s insulted you, he lets out a low chuckle, hips wiggling underneath you as your gasps turn into smirks as you tense around him. You raise and lower yourself once slowly, your shoulders start to slump as you find a rhythm. “You feel so good like this.” your words weak and high pitched, your hands resting on his chest, your legs moving your hips in fluid, swiveling rounds, relieved to find he felt even better this morning than he had last night. “That’s it.” you moan and rasp with an arch of your back as he works his hips up against yours in a slow but hard pump each making your tits bounce much to his enjoyment.

“Take it you dirty girl.” he groans as your hips work, you lean forward, one hand on his chest, the other outstretched and on the headboard above him, increasing the speed of your hips. He pants, hands pawing at your chest. “C'mere and feed me these big fuckin’ tits.” he groans, mouthing up at you as you move your chest directly over his face. Once he places each nipple in his mouth separately, sucking and biting as he squeezes them hard, you whimper and your hips start to hit harder.

“Fuck, I’m getting close already,” you admit with a strained, yet sweet voice. He latches onto one nipple, sucking and lapping away at the hard brown nub with a focused brow. His hand runs down to your hips, moving you slightly, grinding you against him. Your thighs tense as your clit drags up against his body, as that curve in his cock warming up all the soft spots you needed him to hit. “Just like that, right there with that fat fucking cock.” you groan, voice strung out and needful, chasing your orgasm with ferocity, your breathing fast and heavy, hands on the headboard, slamming your hips against him, building up the pace you needed to finish both of you off and soon.

“Yeah, you bounce on this fat fuckin’ cock you wicked thing.” He growls, hands slapping your ass so hard your tense and squeak in surprise. One hand slapping down on his chest, nails digging into him as you gasp out above him. He grabs your hips in his hands, teeth clenched as he holds you in a vice grip, his hips starting to thrust up into you with his feet braced into the bed, giving you a reason to swear at him. You let out a shamefully helpless moan, voice rolling with every pound, jolting swears out of you. He moves his hands quickly from your hips to your wrists, he yanks them behind your back with a grunt, then holding you by the elbows. Now you are helplessly getting fucked, and hard by him as his skin slapped hot against yours. Your eyes roll back and you moan out his name. “That’s it ya filthy little minx.” he says with a shudder-inducing, a deep sexual rumble that you whimper at the words.

“Tu me feras jouir” the words roll out of your mouth and his pants open, wanting to drink them from your lips. “Ah-ah-fie.” you try to call his name and can’t as he slams into you, your body started to tense, he pulls you tighter by your arms, arching your back as you see stars. You aren’t sure if the word yes or oui were tumbling out of your mouth as you came. But your voice in soft breaths make his hips stutter as he slam into you, making you collapse against him. You’re still rolling in your bliss, his hands back to your hips, your shaking hands are on his chest, taking him like a champ and gasping. Letting him find his end as your sensitive, swollen skin is worked against him in ways that make your eyes flutter shut. Your back is hunched over his chest, your hands on the bed next to his side, your cheek resting on his sweaty and rapidly moving chest. You gulp noisily and wet your lips. His hands have laid to rest on your thighs, thumbs already twitching against your inner thighs as you both shivered. You both gasp in staggered breaths for what might’ve been minutes. You don’t recall the last time you felt so spent in such a way.

“What a way to start the fuckin’ day.” he says, breathing evening out more, cheeks flushed and the smile of a totally satisfied man on his face. You lift yourself up with a grunt, rolling and slumping onto the bed next to him. You’re on your back looking at the peak of your canopy beds curtains, your hands up by your head. You turn your face to look at him and he’s already got his eyes on your body. “Ya alright?” he asks with a laugh, his arm flopping out at you, fingers hitting your stomach.

You clear your throat and sink into the covers you’ve fallen into with a wiggle of your shoulders. “Sciatica my arse.” you bite at him. You lay there with a smirk on your face as you listen to his laughter fill up the room.


	28. Damned If She Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Canon-Typical use of racial slurs, language.and violence.   
> Song for the chapter is Damned If She Do by The Kills.

Your nose was twitching, your lips pursed as he watched you writing at your desk. You were looking rather adorable with your hair up in a bun, pen in your mouth, little tiny gold-framed glasses framed your brown eyes. After you'd gotten beaten up for the hit attempt on you, you'd found glasses helped when you had to read, and with Alfie's advice, you went to his guy and now you had round little spectacles of your own. You had bought the delicate gold chain that attached to the glasses but found nesting the glasses on top of your head worked better for you. He said if he had a head full of hair like yours he'd have done much the same.

Your head shoots up towards the knock on the door. 

"'Ello." he says as he bows his head and walks into the room. "Ya got a moment to talk a bit 'a business?" he asks with an intriguing expression.

"Pre-existing or new?" you say with a smile, pointing your finger to the chair in front of your desk, giving permission for him to sit. 

"Little a both." he says with a shrug, settling into the leather chair. 

"Shoot, Solomons." you say, chin resting in your hand.

Apparently, Sabini wasn't behind the hits that had been taken out on you. He found out you'd killed three of his men now personally, and Alfie had killed upwards of six himself. He had mentioned this to Alfie, having contacts with him and not you, and reached out to him to see if you'd be interested in a meeting. You were shocked you were gaining the attention of another leader of a gang in London, but then again, you did keep killing people. It was bound to catch up to you sooner or later, even if they had tried to kill you first. 

Alfie informs you he wants a meeting with both of you. You raise your eyebrows with the delivery of this news. A meeting with both of you? It made you suspicious. Were you really going to throw your weight around with gangsters? Is the world you wanted to invest your time in? The draw of the power, as always, seduces you.

You'd never truly fancied yourself a gangster before. You share this thought with Alfie who laughs loudly as you look on at him with a bit of a confused but somehow condescending look on your face.

"You are more a gangster unintentionally than most that loudly proclaim the title for their own, Gen. You continuously deny that you are one and 'ats how I know you'd be brilliant at it, mate." he says with a wolfish grin.  
\------------------------  
He'd left you with plenty to consider. You were still mulling it over as you looked out the window, sitting next to Alfie in his car on the way to the meeting with Sabini. 

You'd both killed his men. This was old hat to Alfie, but not to you. You were never one to shy from new experiences, and if what Alfie says is true, if you do have the balls to be in such a position of power, why should you feel so nervous? You'd considered that what balls you had were better than the ones the men that already run the town have, so why should you and your superior balls, your ovaries, get to miss out on all the fun?

"If we're invited together and arriving together..." you say, a slow-paced thoughtful tone. "Are we to be presented as a united front?" you ask, your face turning to his, your upper lip bent up slightly in question.

"Well two against one is much better innit?" he says obviously. 

"You realize what a big step this is, Alfie." you say seriously, your voice soft. Your brow is furrowed in the thought of presenting yourself to be a business partner with Alfie Solomons, to aline yourself with the London Jews even if for one meeting. "Both professionally and personally," you say in that same obvious tone he'd used. "Known criminal business partners." you state for clarification.

"It's not one I'm taking without much thought, Genevieve." he says, letting you know this isn't something he's taking lightly either. And he certainly meant that. He'd waited four days, thinking about how big of a step it was and how you might respond before he even came to you about the idea of the meeting. Professionally, you were one of his best assets and secret weapons. You brought him money in both his legal and illegal businesses. You were respected in the legal business world and were still relatively faceless to the illegal underworld in London, you were a newcomer, a wild card. You had high up connections, you had money and you had elite level skills. Professionally you were priceless as far as he was concerned, and he intended to keep you on his side as long as he could. And he knew that meant showing his throat and taking a leap of faith to show you he meant it when he'd told you he wasn't going to fuck you over then he was ready to jump.

He had also considered his personal gains and losses from the impact of this decision. Simply, you were a friend. But beyond that, you were a truly great one. You'd stayed loyal, honest and reasonable the entire time he'd known you. You'd shown capacity for forgiveness and generosity and with someone in an understated position of power like yourself, simple acts of these things had a very far reach in their repercussions. He'd stuck with the considerations of useful, practical things when weighing his options. He hadn't thought that things like your sense of humor, your kindness, beauty, and shared interests with how much he enjoyed your company should be taken into consideration for something like this. But he couldn't really help sneakily adding things like that to his mental list as he broke down his possible strategies in his mind. Because if he fucked this up...he'd be losing all those things as well, whether he denied their existence or not. 

What if you ended up hating each other, you thought. What if you fucked each other over and took everything down in flames during the, what you were sure would be bloody and disgustingly played war between the two of you. You decide you can always just kill him if it comes to such a thing. You really didn't want it to come to that. But you could if it did. So you take the leap.

"Alright then. Solomons and Durand." you say with a nod and a deep breath. "Joining forces against the Italians." you say giving a small, sarcastic but enthusiastic punch to the air in front of you. 

"We're trying to make a truce, Gen." he says with a quiet chuckle at you and you join in and shrug. "Tryin' to keep them from wanting to kill ya? Remember?" he's hiding his charmed smile from you as he looks out the window.

"Oh I fucking remember." you say with a silent laugh that moves your chest. "So I'm not to kill him." you say with a nod and a clap of your hands.

"Not killing him today." he says, nodding his head slowly, half smile still in place.

"Okay I won't kill him." you say with an exaggerated wink.

"Entirely unprofessional." he gruffs out, face straight but a glance that told you to reel it in politely. "Just agreed to do business and you're already playing the wild card." he says, tapping your nose. 

"That was entirely unprofessional." you make in a rebuttal, twitching your nose. "If I get to be too much wild card for your taste just pull me back." you say cracking your knuckles.

"Literally or figuratively?" he asks, with a raised eyebrow.

"Well depends on how disrespectful he chooses to be, doesn't it?" you answer with a raised brow of your own.  
\----------------------------------------------  
You'd had a little stretch before coming in, seeing as you were invited you weren't in a place you were familiar with, but you were still around London so it didn't phase you much. You're in one of Sabini's clubs early on a Sunday. You're searched before you come in, giving an angry huff as the man got a bit too handsy for your taste. You smack the back of his hand and make a remark on having to charge him if he kept that up. You weren't allowed weapons in the meeting, it was one of the terms. 

You sit in the empty dining room, employees moving about slowly, getting ready to open for the afternoon. You and Alfie sit side by side at the smaller, round dining table that Sabini is already sitting at when you come in. 

"Alfie. Miss Durand." Sabini greets you both with a nod each, his nasally tone just as grating as you recall. You return the nod, but pause, placing a hand on the back of your chair to make eye contact with each man on the other side of the table. You're still standing after Alfie has sat, your stone face showing your less subtle but still acceptable show of hesitancy to your company for this meeting. You slide into the chair slowly, face neutral and back straight. 

"Let's cut to it, yeah?" he asks, leaning forward slightly. "As you should know, I am not responsible for the hit that has been placed on you. However, you've both in total killed fuckin' nine men under my protection so now it's my fuckin' problem." he says, his head shaking at his annoyance in dealing with this. "So I need ya both to stop killin' my men." he states, head nodding heavily, his tone obvious and bossy.

Alfie's bottom lip is hidden under his mustache, usually a sign of annoyance, but you see his face turn slightly towards you in your peripheral vision. The hit was on you, he was rightfully so letting you answer since you were the subject of interest. 

"I don't know about you boys, but I kill people that try to kill me." you state obviously, your head moving as you speak. "It doesn't matter if they are Italian. It doesn't matter if they are French or Greek or Irish." you say, motioning your hand in a repetitive circle. "So if someone comes for me...and they by my poor fortune they are Italian." you say, exaggerating the last word. "I am going to kill them." you say with a certain nod of your head. 

Sabini, clearly miffed purses his lips together at you.

"She got a point." Alfie adds in, chin down and eyebrows up at Sabini. 

"Alright." he says, clearly annoyed by your answer. If he didn't like your responses already he wasn't going to get happier. "I won't be sending any men after you." he states, looking at the table as he taps it with his finger.

"That doesn't mean that none of them will still try to kill me." you say in a condescending tone. "I'm not going to sit and make a deal to never do something. Things of an infinite nature are not things I work in because they don't exist," you say confidently, with a scrunch of your face. "Because I could say I won't kill any more of your men, and then here one comes, hopped up on ego and beer and tries to come at me. I'm not going to let him get away with foolish actions unscathed on something such as an attempt on my life. And there I'd be...in breach of contract and then we'd all be all blustery again like we are now." you say, your tone now annoyed. 

"And 'ats a waste of everyone's fuckin' time innit?" Alfie says, finger tapping the table top in front of him.

Sabini looks at you, lips still a puckered asshole, full of shit just the same, moving his eyes to Alfie. "What's this?" he asks, a disgusted look on his face. "I know I called you in together but are you workin' together?" he asks, eyes narrowed. 

"Yeah. Yeah we are, mate. Lemme tell ya why...because we don't wanna worry about your men, bumblin' children they may be, tryin' to blow our fuckin' brains out. It's ridiculous. It's small-time nonsense that shouldn't even be on our agenda." he shakes his hand with his less than pleased tone.

"You killed 6 of my men!" he says exasperatedly at Alfie, who is looking at him with a straight face. "AM I supposed to just let that GO?" he shouts. 

"It was business wunnit? You're taking it entirely too personally." he says with a shake of his head, tone growing harsher. 

"And with me it is personal so can we please just-"

"And you killed THREE? A WOMAN!" his volume growing louder. "I know you haven't been in this game long but if you keep goin' and killin' people, you won't be in much longer because no one's gonna work with some wiley bitch who kills people all the time!" he says in an obvious and certain way that makes your jaw clench. 

"And I'll kill more." you say, voice and head movements full of attitude.

"Is that a threat now"

"It's a promise if you call me a bitch again ya fuckin' wop." you bite back, hands splayed out of the table, back straight and legs apart to center your body. 

Alfie remains still, he's still believing that you aren't going to kill Darby and he's leaving your negotiation tactics to your own doing. He knew disrespect to be your Achilles heel and he knew Sabini to work almost exclusively in it. He couldn't believe HE was acting as a mediator for once. "Now ya just keep pressin' the woman by usin' that language now, mate." he says, voice gruff. If the hair standing on the back of his neck as the insult was directed at you was any indication. He did not like it when someone called you anything like what he was. 

"Oh, you care about watchin' the language with a lady here? The fuck is wrong with you? Frogs like her are known for their fucking rudeness and I didn't take you for bein' the soppy sort but this little kike's made ya soft hasn't she?" his tone was meant to antagonize both of you. You wait as long as you can restrain yourself, willing your hand to stay on the table at the use of the slur in Alfie's presence. You hear Alfie's hand hit the table, his rings making a loud clack against it and you instinctually, in reaction to the immense anger and the starter pistol-like trigger of the noise he makes, lean across the table and very literally smack the spit out of his mouth. Alfie appreciates the moral support but felt the reaction from you a bit strong for the use of the word, he wondered if he should be more angry about it himself, he was just used to this sort of thing from Darby at this point. You didn't hold back with the momentum behind your hit, the sound echoed through the room like a strike of lightning. Alfie was only sat forward in his chair, you were already up. Your hand still raised, the backhand of it facing Sabini as he sucked his teeth at you, touching his now split lip. 

"Just 'cause I'm workin' with her, don't make her Jewish, ya daft cunt. I thought you only said things like 'at behind me back nowadays." his tone is loud and almost amused. "Least you got the fuckin' balls to say it to my face again ain't ya big boy?" he taunts him, standing, both of you, predatory jungle cats, looming over your prey. 

"This little boy has no balls at all." you say, looming over him, power dripping for your pores. 

"Listen here you fuckin bit-" he starts, you slap his face again, this time hitting him around the socket of his eyes. One of his men grabs you this time, twisting your arm back and tossing you back across the table. You're on your feet in seconds, hips pressed back against the table as your squared shoulders, braced on the table hiss at Sabini in Italian.

"Let me say this in your language so you'll fucking understand." you glare into his eyes, snaking your head so he can't lose your spotlight. "If you can't speak to me with a grain of decency in your tone, then I will very happily grind you to a fine paste, put you into a fucking bolognese and feed you to your fucking family." your calm delivery of these threats always works most effectively. The fear that flashed behind his eyes at the psychotic and taboo threat sends a thrill of power down your spine. "You will find I am very reasonable to work with as long as you DO NOT FUCKING DISRESPECT ME!" you shout, hitting your hands on the table to drive your point home, a slam for every shouted word. Alfie, who is standing, having gotten up to check on you after you were shoved to the floor which you were absolutely unphased by, holds his eyes on you, his hands ready to react to whatever you did next. He made a mental note as he sees you simmer instead of boil over at Sabini, to remind himself to tell you he liked your taboo insult involving cannibalism. "I came here to conduct business, just like you." you point at him before you let out a very loud and frustrated sigh. You sit back down in the chair, still burning but not raging. 

He opens his mouth to speak and you hold out your hand and speak over him. 

"I'm not finished." you begin, crossing your arms and leaning on the table. "It will take very little for you to salvage this working relationship Sabini." you say obviously, your voice less angry. "Just talk to me like a person."

"Like a person?" he asks confused.

"Yes like another human is supposed to talk to another fucking human." you say, leaning back and letting out a frustrated groan. "Is he always this fucking thick?" you ask in a saucy tone to Alfie who looks at you and shrugs in a very attitude filled response. 

"Eh." he answers, moving his hand from side to side. Sabini looks at him with a fleeting moment of amusement.

"All I'm asking of you is to put some respect to my name when you speak it. Just like you usually do with Alfie. Treat me with the same thin veiled double-faced sarcastic respect that you like to pretend you give to anyone but yourself. And if you find yourself unable to rise to that insanely low standard than you don't deserve a place in any sort of business at all and taking you down is something I can add to my to-do list." you say casually, your predatory confidence making his face go red like a child being scolded. "I wanted to have a meeting where I got to be a lady and not slap a grown man who's mother should've raised him better." you bite out. "I wanted to be able to make a deal for a truce, for us to all just fuck off with each other. Alfie won't kill your men, I won't kill them unless they try to kill me first. It's so simple of a fucking idea that an infant could comprehend it, but NO you have to and verbally slap your cock out on the table and what good's it done, eh?" your voice has grown louder but less angry. You really did feel like a mother with these men sometimes. Wanting to take soap and a paddle to them, teach them how to behave like a fucking human in civilized society. 

"I've had people killed for less disrespect." he squeezes out, his nasally voice making your teeth grit. 

"And so have I!" you say, your hands up in the air in exasperation. "If I had intentions on killing you I would've already done it, you moron! I didn't want to have to make you look bad in front of your own people, but am I going to have to remind you who I fucking am?" you say pulling a favorite power move of yours. Alfie isn't surprised by the deep twitch your words and attitude cause in his lower stomach, he'd be half hard watching you work like this if he was anyone else outside this situation right now.

"What are you on about Durand?" he asks, you validate his verbal white flag. 

"I'm on about ME. It's in your interest to do business with me. Not the other way around." you say mater of factly.

"Oh really?" he says, the same attitude in his tone. 

"Yes. If how you're conducting business here today is any indication, I'll just assume you haven't done your research on me," you say, pursing your lips, speaking with your hands. "But I've done mine on you," you say with a smile. "I can buy and sell you times over if I wanted Sabini," you say in an almost seductive tone, making the mans chin push into his chest. "And if you try to fuck with me again, after your behavior here today..." you tsk him. "Well, it won't just be me you're answering to will it?" you say with a big grin, a bit crazed for the situation but you loved how it made him flinch. "Because if you come after me now? Even if you by some miracle killed me... I have people that will avenge me." you state obviously. "And people who actually would. Not just your yellow-bellied men who would be deserting before your body even hit the ground." you motion the men around him with your hand, disappointed look on your face.

"You and Solomons? That supposed to scare me?" he asks, his nose wrinkled. 

"It fuckin' should." Alfie states deep, dark and clearly. "She's a better businessman than you, mate." Alfie says with the shake of his head, a taunting grin joined his words. "If it's two against one..."he tsks him, "If you don't make, what I think is a very reasonable deal, yeah? Then it's gonna be me 'n Durand against you. And if ya ain't scared of me..." he purses his lips for a moment, "Well that would make ya fuckin' dull as well but the point is our associate Durand here ain't nothin' to dismiss." he says with a tone of warning. 

"I have other's who would back me up as well." you say, your eyes narrowing.

"And who?" he spits out, trying to call your bluff. But you werent bluffing.

"The Peaky Blinders for starters. I know how much you two are fond of each other." Alfie huffs out amused, knowing they were a sore spot for Sabini.

"All of the Gypsies. I also have many very, very wealthy and powerful clients who would be quite upset if I were to no longer be able to work for them. Hell, if you want to get the fucking Milleau involved we go down that road too!" your voice raising again, growing tired of this back and forth. You could be at home soaking in a lavender oil bath listening to your record player, you sigh at the thought. 

Alfie's ears perk up at the mention of the Millieu. He did not know you had any sort of French mafia connections but should anything about you surprise him at this point?

"Alright. I fuckin' get it." he says, his face twisted and annoyed. 

"Do you? Because the point is all this bickering is time-wasting nonsense and I don't associate myself with such things. So can we please conduct ourselves as gentlemen here? And just agree we won't kill each other? We will not send anyone to each other for any purposes of harm. We will inform our people that we are not enemies and we can work independently without the added weight of the worry on our shoulders as it would pertain to us three?" you say in a more positive tone, hoping to reel this in. 

Sabini lets out a sigh, touching his lip again and grumbling, he leans his arms back on the table and looks back and forth between you and Alfie, both similar expression and body language. "Fine." he gruffs.  
\-------  
"I don't know who's worse, him or the Greeks." you say with a roll of your eyes once you've slumped into the back seat of Alfie's car and he's shut his doors. 

"Yeah he ain't the most pleasant." he says with the sarcasm obvious in his voice. "Shouldn't be callin' you what he did, 'ats for sure."

"Well I smacked the taste out of his mouth for everything he said about both of us." you almost mumble, feeling raw about it still. "At least he's not trying to fuck me and is just rude." you snort, laughing quietly to yourself, clearly being worn out from the meeting.

"The Greeks botherin' ya?" he asks, his brow furrowed as he also didn't know you were working with the Greeks.

"I mean, no more than any other oversexed, swarthy men." you shrug and give him an easy going smirk. "I only work with them because of the canal section they work anyway. "

"What interest you got in canals?" he says, eyebrow-raising at you.

"Business interests," you say with a grin, avoiding his question.   
He continues you look at you and you roll your eyes. "Smuggling, Alfie." you say with a sigh. You were working together you might as well answer his questions honestly. 

"What do you know about smugglin'?" he asks exasperatedly. What didn't you have your fingers in at this point. 

"Their section of the canal runs out to a seldom-used dock between the towns in the north-west. That bit works an intersection for me to load and unload cargo without any trouble. Seein' as I got the men who work it by the balls because of my title and their poor decisions, boys don't want to lose their jobs." you explain. "Or their heads." you say with a snort. 

"May I ask what cargo?" he inquires politely, like the smart man he is.

"Mostly art." you nod. "Lots of the men who hire me have boats and it's easy to use the small ones to get things past the law with my title and last name on the paperwork. It's unsuspecting enough to meet up in still waters at night make the trade-offs that way."

"I had wondered what business you had to come home stinkin' of the canal." he says with a half smile. Proud to know you were using your title to your advantage, he hadn't heard you use it as leverage as often as he thought you could, or perhaps should, but he wasn't going to question your tactics. He was for once, pleased to know he was wrong on his assumptions. 

"Yeah, that wasn't a part that I anticipated when I got into smuggling. No one told me how much it fucking stinks." you chuckle.

"Well you're gettin' ya hands dirty ain't ya? That's good for a gangster to do from time to time" he smirks, knocking you with his elbow in a light-hearted way.

"I still don't fancy myself a gangster." you say in a whiny sort of way. "I'm a businesswoman. I con millionaires and steal art and jewels. I smuggle things for people and get paid handsomely. I don't run territories and have people pay protection to me. I don't have bookies. I don't have seconds or anyone on the street working for me. It's just me and my businesses." you say defensively.

"Do you not have Claire? Even Joseph or Aggie? Are they not seconds?" he asks, his face smug. You frown. "What about your real estate? That's territory. Last I heard your name besides this meeting was from some boys down on the border talkin' about you buyin' 3 businesses on one street. What's all that then?" he says in a louder voice, making his point. "And smuggling? Darling, smuggling is elementary to the game when played correctly," he says with a touch of pride in his voice for you. "I'm gonna read this paper here, yeah? And leave you to think about what you just said." he says with a nod of his glasses in his hand at you. "It ain't nothin' for a woman like you to be afraid of, luv. It's just a word your bourgeoisie friends would use to make themselves feel better. You're still a businesswoman. Think of it as...a woman who conducts her business in the night instead of day."

"Now you're making me sound like a prostitute." you say with a snort of a laugh, your chest already bouncing. 

He opens his mouth and closes it without speaking, your wrinkled nose and eyes triggering the laughter reaction from him as well. "Weren't what I meant, yeah?" he says with a smile, patting your knee. "You're gettin' hung up over the word, Gen, it's just a word." 

"Yeah like prostitute is just a word, Alfie? A title given. A set of negative emotions connected to it that people react strongly to at the very first mention of them." you look at him with a face that isn't angry, but isn't exactly warm either. "There's no such thing as just words, Alfie. There's always weight to them." you say softly as you watch the city you were becoming fused with dash before your eyes as you left it behind for home.

He doesn't say anything, he just wears a disappointed look on his face, knowing that telling you that you had a good point wasn't necessary.


	29. I'm Shakin'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song for the chapter is I'm Shakin' by Jack White

He hears you squealing, he believes it to be a happy squeal as he’s started to learn to translate your loud vocal expressions at this point. As it is a Saturday, and just after sunrise, he does not rush as he moves the cover back over his typewriter.

You are currently holding a slender man’s face in both your hands and covering him in noisy kisses as he indulges your affectionate notions with a reluctantly happy expression. 

He’s barely taller than you, his hair accounting for part of that height as it is coiffed and styled in a shiny arrangement as per the current trend. He has very dark hair and eyes, similar to yours.

“Your glasses are just darling on you Fred!” you say, touching the dark tortoiseshell squared frames before retreating your hands. He nods to the glasses in your hair.

“Look like you have them now too. We’re getting fucking old Genevieve.” he says with a grin.

“Don’t get me started Freddie.” you groan with a smile, shaking your head.

“Looks like you’ve gone and gotten rather plump on me Genevieve.” he says smacking the side of one of your breasts with a snort of laughter.

“And what of it ya cow?” you say grabbing his face with both hands, squeezing his cheeks. You both start laughing at each other.

“I might’ve missed you a bit, you harlot.” he says with a warmer smile after you release his face and wrap your arms around his neck again.

“I missed you, you twat.” you purr contently, giving him a final squeeze as you hear Alfie clear his throat. “Speaking of…” you whisper as you pull away before introducing your boys to each other.

“Freddie meet Alfie Solomons.” you declare, walking towards Alfie as if he were a show pony, hand extended and showing him off with a smile.

Freddie approaches Alfie with an intrigued look on his face, not predatory, merely observant. He reaches his hand out to Alfie who takes it in both of his enthusiastically, “I’ve heard much about you Freddie. Gen’s been proper excited about you comin’ in, she has. Ain’t ya luv?” he says, nodding his head at you. You smile at his welcoming demeanor, feeling charmed yourself, knowing Freddie was enjoying being the target of it.

“I’ve heard about you as well.” he almost gives away too much of your giggled phone conversations about the man in front of him as he shoots his eyes over to you. "I figured I’d learn more after this dress fitting today though.“ he says with a calm confidence, measuring up Alfie.

"Ah. Well, I won’t keep ya from ya gossip then. I know Gen’s excited about that dress.” he says with a nod, moving over to you. “Ya gonna be at tea, luv? Or should I let the girls know ya takin’ it in yer room?” he asks, his eyes warm and easy going under his strong brow. You’re taken aback by the gesture, a strange lump in your throat appears suddenly. His arm around your back, the caring feeling of the question, oddly touched you out of the blue. The realization that he was considering you and your needs to the point of wondering ahead of time about your meals made you blink slowly at him. He shoots you a very subtle look of questioning.

“We’ll be at tea.” you say quietly, looking at his lips a second too long.  
“Viktor is making one of Freddie’s favorites since we won’t be in for dinner.” you continue to speak softly, that Freddie can’t even hear you, as his face leans closer still to yours. Alfie smiles down at you, not knowing where this bashful girl had come from.

“Ya goin’ out tonight?” he asks in a soft tone that matched your own, not wanting to startle you further as your back straightens under the movement of his fingers against your back.

“Yes…maybe go to the opera or something. I planned on winging it.” you admit with a huff of a laugh, a half smile managed beneath your wide eyes.

“Well I’ll see you two at tea, won’t I?” he asks his hand moving from your back to your shoulder for a small squeeze.

You nod and as pulls away, the same strange smirk on his face at you. You realize at that moment that there hadn’t ever been a man to care about such things for you in your life since you were a child, and then it was only one relative by blood. There certainly hadn’t been any that had slept with you that would care about such a thing. This heavy hit knocked you a bit off balance noticeably. Freddie sees the presence behind your eyes leave as he knows something has just occurred to you, as your eyes drift about, unfocused.

Alfie has left politely and Freddie knowingly takes your arm and leads you to your room. “I’d act like that if he looked at me like that too sweetheart, god damn,” he says with a full amused and smug look on his face. “Not to insult your work Gen but that sketch you sent me of him does not do that big, charming Jewish ginger snap justice.” he says with a laugh, snapping you out of your invasive thoughts as you nodded in agreement with the statement.   
—–  
You’re back to normal, wagging your chin loudly at Freddie, catching up and bitching.

“Just in time Alfie! I’m just about to fit her tits for this dress.” he says in a laugh, tape measure in hand, pin cushion attached to his wrist.

“Oh well, I- Uh-” he says not coming around the corner.

“Don’t play shy Alfie, we can trust Freddie.” you say comfortingly. You figure he was trying to play low key on the sexual nature of your usual banter until he had a clear signal it was okay to be cheeky around this man he didn’t know.

“Nothin’ we ain’t seen before, eh?” he says with that charming smile, directed at you as he walks his powerful and paced walk you thought was very becoming. Especially when he looked so broad in his soft white shirt. His hands in his pockets, wide shoulders swaggering towards you.

“There he is!” you say cheerfully. “I told you he’s a cheeky boy just like you.” you say, your face moving to Freddie.

“Best kind of boy.” he says, mumbling in focus with a needle in his mouth.

“This the dress ya wearin’?” he asks, having the nerve to actually walk a slow circle around the pedestal you stood upon while Freddie fitted the dress.

“It’s not finished yet but yes.” you say, finding it hard to show off the beautiful gold floral lace that swelled out of your lower half in a classic ball gown silhouette.

“There will be more layers and beading when it’s finished,” he mumbles, fluffing the skirt with a frown. “We’ll have a sheer bit across the upper arms, the middle of the chest here,” he speaks informatively and casually.  
“And course it’ll have all the beading and stones all across the bodice here as well. Have to be the shiniest thing in the room all the time, don’t you?” he says with a warmer tone. “But you’ll look like a golden ray of sunlight come to life once I’m done with you.” he says excitedly.

“Even like this it ain’t bad, yeah?” he says with an honest shrug.

“It’s not but it’s not up to level of obnoxiousness I need for my birthday.” you say with a grin. “I have to have something big enough to match the grandeur of the ruby tiara.”

“A fuckin’ tiara?” he says with a low chuckle. “Oh Gen. What we gonna do with a princess like you, eh?”

“Empress actually.” he looks at you with a friendly but confused look. “The jewels and tiara mimic those of Empress Josephine’s.” you say with a devastatingly charming smile.

“The Empress- Yeah of fuckin’ course.” he says with a shake of his head.

“I always wear a tiara on my birthday Alfie. It’s the only day I have the excuse to!” you say exasperatedly. “I have this grand party to celebrate and if I,” you place your hand to your chest. “…can’t show that I’m worth celebrating than the party would certainly be dull wouldn’t it? It’s about living your fucking life and all that.”

“It’s about you getting absolutely pissed out of your fucking mind and waking up in some peculiar way that will lend itself to the community gossip for days after the fact.” he says with his usual welcome pushy tone.

Your smile full of guilt you shrug at Alfie who is watching you with interest. “He’s not wrong.” you admit with a cheeky little smile, your chin pushing into your chest as you roll your eyes at yourself. “Why don’t you get fitted for a suit Alfie?” you suggest, a mischievous look in your eyes as they move up and down his body.

“Well I didn’t plan on it.” he says with a shrug.

“Freddie is a wizard and will make it fit you like a dream. If you were one for loud colors I’d suggest a gold metallic suit to match my dress.” you say with a high pitched laugh. He bites his lip for a moment at your laid-back silliness, finding your charm hiding in the most unlikely of places.

“You couldn’t get me in no matching, cutesy-pie shit like ‘at even ya’s my wife, mate.” he says with a slow-growing smile to accompany the chuckle.

“Well lucky for you she was kidding.” Freddie smirks, pinching your sides.

“Yeah I’m not a fan of anyone wearing anything that looks like what I’m wearing, am I?” you raise your eyebrow and tilt your head. “But you would look so smashing in something taupe. Don’t you think Freddie? Oh, or a nice blue-grey. Bring out those lovely eyes?” you say with a supportive, genuine grin while your forearms rest atop your head while Freddie fusses with your bodice.

“Those eyes are just begging for some color in that wardrobe. They’re gorgeous, Alfie.” he says motioning with his hand as if he’s dismissing any objection. He turns his face to meet Alfie. “That’s beyond me hitting on you, you heard the lady say it as well, just a fact.” he nods, going back to his work.

“Well fanks for 'at mate.” he says with a pleasant closed mouth smile. Oh, he was adorable when he was pleased with himself.

“I’d kill to see you in a dark purple.” you pout.

“I like my neutrals now, luv. I prefer me flash from jewels.” he says grinning, wiggling his decorated hands in the flattering light of the room.

“Like this one’s style.” Freddie says with a distracted polite expression, quiet as his back is turned to the man.

“I prefer to be decadent and do both.”

“There’s a thin line between that and gaudy, darling.” he and Alfie both share a chuckle at your expense.

“I’ll have you know Mr. Solomons is a fan of my taste in jewels.” you say in defense of yourself.

“'At’s true.” he nods, backing you up.

“Well, I suppose you just keep minding that line then,” Freddie says with a shake of his head. He sighs and stretches his back as he stands up straight. “I’ve almost got ya baps strapped in so if we’re having tea you might want to send word.” he says removing the pin cushion from his wrist.

You move your face in the direction of Alfie who already has his back to you. He holds his hand up in the air as he saunters away as if he knew you’d be looking to him.

“Got it.” he gruffs out, disappearing out of the room.   
—————————————————–  
You’ve called out his name in that lovely lilt it takes on when you’re in a good mood. He’s padding through the hallway, slippers on, glasses jingling around his neck to meet the source of the sound.

“There you are!” you say, your fingers smoothing out the silk of your dress. His eyelashes flutter as he see’s you in something that must be new as he’s seen no other woman dressing like that this London. "I wanted to show off a bit before I left.“ you admit with a coy shrug and a soft laugh. "Freddie brought it in, fresh from Paris. You can still smell a bit of perfume from the shop on her.” you say with that romantic tone to your voice.

He’s never seen you in pink before. Your look is soft and light and not what he’s used to. Your hair bounces in tight curls, lips a light pink blush like that of your dress. He gets close enough to reach out and feel the softness of the fabric resting snugly against your body. The dress was cut for your curves, hitting the ground in one long line, his fingers feeling the low back as his arm made its way across the small of your back.

He leans his nose in close to your ear, and agonizingly slowly. He can see your eyes darting in question as he leans in. He takes a deep breath, nose placed against the strap of your dress on your shoulder. “Mmmm. I 'ont know if its the dress or not but you smell lovely.” he says quietly, looking about like getting caught touching in your own house was a danger.

“Thank you, I used new oils in my bath Freddie brought as well.” you say, moving your hair off your shoulder. You keep your voice calm and soft, your body humming from the powerful stance he was currently holding you in. You were amused by the level of affection he was showing outside of a locked room. You hadn’t known how he’d start acting after you’d started sleeping together, but tonight you were seeing some grade A, prime charming Solomons on display just for you and it made the girl in you blush while the woman you were remained smiling with watchful eyes.

“Never seen you in pink before,” he says in a more casual tone, reaching for your hand and making your spin for him. You stop and watch his face as his eyes move over your body. You’d forgotten what it was like to welcome or enjoy a man looking at you in such a way. He meets your eyes, placing your hand that he had held for your spin onto his back as he moves his arm around you. “You always wear such dark colors,” he pauses, a thoughtful look plays across his face. “ But tonight you look like the sexiest candy floss I’ve ever seen.” he has a hint of teasing as usual in his voice and you smile at his words, his eyes watching your lips as they laughed and spoke. “But candy floss starts to disappear when it gets wet, doesn’t it?” he says with a sly smile, you return the glance at his cheeky words. “And I know you don’t do that.” his rumbling chuckle makes goosebumps run across your skin. If he didn’t kill you with violence it was going to be from dehydration wasn’t it?

“But I do melt when you put your mouth on me just the same.” you say saucily but without selling it too heavily in your expression.

“Mmm. Am I gonna get the chance to make you melt tonight, luv?” he asks with a snicker in his voice, leaning in close to your face, eyes watching your lips as you were starting to wish he’d just kiss you already.

“Hmmm.” you answer with pursed lips. “Ask me after I get home. Depends on how late we’re out and how much I drink,” you say less seductively but with informative tone. “I don’t know what he’s going to feel up to so I’m not going to make any promises I can’t keep,” you say with a charming smile, tilting your head up at him. “Not a sexy answer but a practical one.” you offer with a shrug.

“Who says practical can’t be sexy?” he says with a low laugh, his shoulders moving with it as he kisses your cheek. “This dress certainly is though.” he hums, raising his eyebrows at you, hand reaching down your back to your ass.

“Get your paws off her, Solomons, you’re going to wrinkle that dress and it’s African silk.” Freddie says with a bossy but light tone as he walks into the room.

Alfie grins and steals a quick kiss when Freddie isn’t looking, letting you go. “Well I wouldn’t want to take part in that atrocity.” he says with a low chuckle, hand moving to rub the back of his neck, stepping back and giving you a boyishly charming smile as if you’d gotten caught snogging in a storage closet.   
–  
He’s in his room, yawning as he rubs his eyes over an old book. He hears cackles from the lobby, he waits as he hears steps come down the hall in his direction. You were back far earlier than he anticipated.

“Bonjour Alfie!” you chirp, your hip swinging as you make your way into the room. “We ate and drank and it looked like rain and I’m not letting mother nature ruin this dress. But then I became tired because I ate too much pasta and we came home,” you say with a pout that isn’t reading as genuinely sad. “We’re going to have a little chin wag in the study and you’re welcome to join, or not.” you move your hands back and forth, “Either way is fine. We are not sober, and will be continuing down that path if you would like to join us on that journey as well,” you say happily, your hands clapping together with your loose body language, moving as you spoke by his door. “We will be loud so if we bother you to the point of annoyance, let me know, but please don’t yell at me though because when I’m drunk and men yell at me it doesn’t end well.” you say with a heavy nod of your head.

“I’m not gonna yell at ya for enjoyin’ yerself in yer house. Go on, have ya fun babes. I’ll be here.” he says nodding and shooing you with his hand. You spin and turn out of his room, trotting back down the hall to land on the couch with a bounce as Freddie poured more wine.   
–  
“You’ve got Chanel getting all the credit in Paris, dressing women like men while Lanvin, not only a designer but multi-talented, takes a back seat.” he hears Freddie bark.

“If you’re trying to tell me of how the public favors a young beauty over a well developed aged mind, I’m afraid you are enlightening me in no way.” Alfie hears you chuckle out. He’s eavesdropping again. Shooting a wink at Aggie as she catches him. She’d never tell on him.

“I know that, I’m not daft. Just unfair to the spirit of creativity and talent.” he says with a wave.

“If I’m wearing a Chanel dress, I’ll still have more Lanvin on my body,” you say with a flourish of your hand. “Although I use more makeup and perfume by the latter, I still believe I’ve given more money to Chanel.” you roll your eyes. “But better to give Lanvin my money over Patou, I suppose.” you shrug.

Freddie laughs into his glass. “Not a fan of ready-to-wear?” he smirks.

“You know I’m not.” you return the glance with a shake of your head.

“Nor of tennis?” he laughs.

“You know I prefer other sport.” you giggle. “How are my old freinds fairing? How is Madeline doing? She always knew how to fit a woman’s body. Oh! What about Elsa? Her and Dali still playing off each other?” you ask with inquisitive eyes.

“They’ve both built quite the name for themselves. They both have their own houses now, you know.” he says, with raised eyebrows.

“I did not.” you say impressed. “Good to see the girls doing well though. I’ll need to visit soon. I was always very fond of Vionett personally. But you know I’ll always roll on my back for a good Grecian reference though won’t I?” you giggle into the glass of wine.

“Speaking of the Greeks, why isn’t your Zeus joining us?” he snorts, cheeky look on his face while not meeting your eyes.

“Oh, I feel him more of a…Dionysus.” you declare with a broad grin. “I extended the invitation but he didn’t come, so….” you shrug and take another sip.

“Well, we’ve got all the pink wine tonight honey. If getting this pink into you does not get him into yours then I’m afraid there’s no hope.” he says with a smile and shake of his head.

“Pink wine does make me a bit of a harlot.” you say with a snorting laugh.   
“I don’t think getting him in will be a problem.” you say with amused pursed lips.

“And what was it like to fall off the wagon and right onto a cock?” he says, making himself laugh.

“Much better ride than the wagon, I’ll tell ya that, Fred.” you belly laugh.

“He’s a broad man isn’t he? This reflected elsewhere?” he implores with a naughty grin.

He hears you snort into your glass. “Yes, so is his religion,” you whisper, tongue between your teeth as you silently laugh. “It’s like going so long without it has made it feel different now or something. I mean he’s…well, you know how I like 'em.” you say with a shrug. “He’s like that.” you say with raised eyebrows.

“Yeah you little masochist.” he chuckles.

“Eh, ya know me.” you say with a giggle. “It’s not just the breadth, the…” you make a hand motion to gesture the excellence of him, “It’s this curve he’s got.” you say quietly, biting your thumb.

Alfie wets his lips and holds in a laugh as he has the dumbest grin on his face from hearing your praise.

“Ah yes. Still on the hunt for that elusive female ejaculation, I see.” you snort into your glass.

“Not what I meant but he does fit me nice and snug I confess. My eyes almost didn’t uncross after I got off from riding him, I swear.” you fan yourself with your hand.

“It the wine or the man causing ya to flush?” he kids, prodding your shoulder with his foot as it hung off the arm of the chair he was relaxed back into.

“Both. Exacerbating one another.” you laugh.

“Since I won’t be sleeping with the man, any other dirty details you want to spill while I’m here? I know Claire doesn’t like to talk about such things. Might as well get it out of your system.”

“I’m not sure what’s left to tell.”

“Well what’s different? You said it was different now. I said we were getting old but we aren’t that old.” he smirks.

“I don’t know if it’s age, the abstinence or just him.” you shrug with a wiggle of your eyebrows. “Being as skilled and fun as he is, there’s something else that’s…” you sigh and frown slightly.

“You aren’t known for your lack of words.” Freddie says with a smile.

“No, but when you’ve done what I have and you find yourself experiencing something that you aren’t used to it can be a bit confusing.” you elaborate, moving your hands. “Maybe it’s the intensity he brings. He’s got that magnetism.” your eyes narrow in pleasant thought of the man.

“Certainly, I noticed. Confidence, power, that boldness you’re so fond of.” he adds to your description.

“Yes he’s very charming.” you say quietly, looking into your glass.

“You are used to being the charming one.” he says with a smirk, tilting his head at you.

You scoff out a laugh, “Two charming people can coexist.” you say in defense of yourself.

“Yes, especially when one likes the other more.” he says with pursed lips.

“What? I’m quite fond of the man but-” you start to retort with a wrinkled nose.

“I wasn’t talking about you, dear.” his tone reflects the expression he has so Alfie doesn’t even have to see it to know what it looks like; eyes raised to yours with a lowered brow with insinuation.

Alfies back stiffens, his eyes shoot to one side, feeling paranoid by the accusation. He steps back, your reply muffled now from his ears. He lets out a heavy sigh, hands on his hips as he bites his lip and takes a few steps back, looking at the ornately decorated door. He supposes he deserved to hear the gut fluttering statement since he was eavesdropping.But now he’s left with more questions than answers, the opposite of the expected outcome, with the questions being all for himself.


	30. Teenage Kicks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW. Explicit sexual content.  
> Song for the chapter is Teenage Kicks by The Undertones.

Much later into the night, he hears the sound of you laughing over the sound of his music playing in his room. He decides to take you up on your previous offer, following through on his flirtations earlier in the day as he makes his way down to the study. When he knocks on the door he hears a happy mewl from you. You smack your lips and wiggle your eyebrows at Freddie before addressing the knock. 

"Come in." you lilt out. 

"I's jus' checkin' on ya before I went to bed." he announces, sauntering into the room, one hand in his pocket, legs planted in a wide stance.

"We were just talking about going to bed. But neither of us wanted to move." Freddie complains, a heavy sigh following the dramatic head movement that accompanied his words. 

"Ah, room's not even that far down, mate." he says in a warm tone, knocking Freddie's foot that hung off the chair, chuckling at him.

"You're taller than me, it doesn't seem as far to you." he says in a lazy, slightly dramatic way, a twist of his chin accompanying his words. 

"Well I can't argue ya on that bit there but, I know ya got an early train, yeah? And we both know what our Genny's like when she dunnit get her rest." he says, eyes darting to you, moved to your side and laid out on the couch, mouth now open at him.

"You're so rude," you say playfully, nose wrinkling at him. "What'd I ever do to you?" you ask with faux offense.

"Well, ya told me to get you up from a nap for one of ya lady lunch fuckin' things ya'll do on Sundays, right? And I did that, the nice man I am, yeah?" he gives you a wink that makes you let out a little wheeze of a laugh at his boyish charm."And what's she do, eh?" he walks closer to the chairs, looking at Freddie as he walks. "She calls me a slag and hits me wif a big 'ol fuckin' book, aimed for me head. Nearly sent me to my grave, it did." he says dramatically, your grin is unfiltered at his big personality moves across the room. 

"The book wasn't that big." you say in defense of yourself, your face fox like in your girlish tone.

"She's not even denying it." Freddie says with a laugh that shakes his stomach. 

"No that happened," you say with a laugh, laying your head back down on the couch. "Best get me to bed then, eh?" you say with a low chuckle, your eyes shut. 

"Best get ME to bed." says Freddie. "Fucking wine." he grumbles, sitting the glass down clumsily on the table by his chair. 

"Oh, he's a little drunk innnit he? Both in stature and in lack of sobreity." Alfie says with a chuckle. "Eh, fuckin' c'mon mate." he says hoisting him up same as he does you. 

"Oh it's been too long since I've done THIS!" he says with a laugh, as Alfie mirrors his humor in the situation. In a few beats of silence, you hear another laugh and a shout from Freddie as Alfie carries his down the hall. "He says I'm lighter than you, Gen! I'm gonna keep this one if that's alright." he's already been sat down as you hear a little "woo." from him you've heard before in similar situtions. 

"Yeah 'cause you don't have twenty pounds of tit on you!" you shout, your voice more fiesty but the boys laugh at you just the same.   
\---  
"I think I'm just drunk enough to admit that I'm feeling a bit jealous of the attention you were giving Freddie." you say with a squeaking laugh, your face scrunched in a snicker. You bite your lip at him as he walks back into the room.

"Well that was the quickest way to get him out and me in, eh?" he gives you another wink.

What was with these saucy winks tonight, you wondered. You didn't mind it at all but my word was he being cheeky. 

"She's jealous is she?" he says, moving in quick from far enough away for you to tense up before he reached you, sweeping you up in his arms threshold style as you gasp out his name in surprise, your arms wrapping around his neck. "I didn't think you'd like getting picked up and carried nowhere, princess." he taunts, his smug and very handsome face being studied by your half-lidded eyes. 

"I've never met a girl that doesn't like being thrown around by a big handsome man from time to time." you say with a sly grin, kissing his cheek. 

"Ya wantin' a bit 'a trouble tonight, luv?" he says in a gravelly, deep chuckle as you nod and place a kiss closer to his ear.

"Mmm Hmm," you say in a feminine tone, nose brushing the shell of his ear as he works a shout out of you by moving you suddenly and swiftly and throwing you over his shoulder. "Alfie!" you say, wiggling your feet in a weak display of protest. 

"Shut the door, luv." he says as you reach behind him as he walks into your room and you push the door to. He plants an open handed smack to your bum, placing a loud smooch on your hip. "You said you wanted trouble didn't ya?" he growls and playfull bites the bulk of your thigh as he carries you to the foot of the bed. "Just so happens I got some to give ya tonight." he says in a smooth way that makes you hum at his words as he places your feet on the floor by your bed. 

You spin and stumble slightly with your feet in only stockings, getting stuck on the long dress. He catches you easily but the laugh he gives you is more pity than desire now. You look up at him with a pout. 

"Maybe you're a bit farther gone than I thought." he says with a chuckle, hands moving to your shoulders as you fuss with the lower half of your dress. 

"I ain't that drunk. Honest." you grumble, slumping your shoulders after growing tired quickly at fussing with the dress. You look up at him, his head tilted slightly at you, face indifferent as you see he's trying to figure you out. "It's the fuckin' dress." you say in a sigh.

He keeps his eyes on you, checking you for a wobble, looking for a too distant look in your eyes for him feel comfortable taking things further. "Ya sure?" he can tell by the indifference in your face that you certainly weren't to a point of not being able to make your own decisions. 

You let out a soft laugh, hand on his chest for a moment. "Oh you sweet man." you say with a sincere smile, you're still holding a hint of tease. "You afraid that you'd be taking advantage of me?" you say with a saucy scrunch of your nose as you grin up at him. 

He doesn't say anything, just gives a nod of his head that tells you you're right when it was followed by obviously raised eyebrows. Had there ever been a man to consider such a thing before sleeping with you before? You couldn't recall any as the thought passed your mind. 

You respond in a muffled 'awww' sort of sound, as you pout your lips at him in adoration. 

He shuts his eyes with a laugh for a moment, his hands moving to your hips. "Yeah, I'm a real bastard, ain't I?" he says with a chuckle. "C'mon, luv," he says warmly, still laughing softly. He moves you easily in your not totally sober state. "Turn 'round and let's get this pretty little thing off of ya, yeah?" he says, eyes already narrowing in focus, the heat of his fingers making you chill for a moment as you close your eyes and enjoy the feeling. You can feel his breath on your shoulder as you hold your hair to the side for him out of habit. 

You feel him start to pop the tiny row of bottons that line down the center of your lower back. His fingers release each steadily, but slow enough to build a delicious tension you thrived off of in your lazy state. The weight of the dress hangs on the folded shoulder straps alone, as you don't clutch it to your chest to hold it. You feel the heat of his palms on the bare skin of your back, reaching around your ribs, resting on your sides, thumbs rubbing circles into your muscles. You lower your head to one side and let out a soft grunt of enjoyment.

He plants a kiss to your bare shoulder. You smile in response, biting your lip as a second lands inches close to your naked neck. You feel the fingers move up to your shoulders, under the straps and the dress falls to the floor with a soft whoosh of a sound. Another kiss, feeling the air of the room on your skin, left in your panties and stockings, your chin drops, looking up in a sultry way at nothing in particular as more kisses follow. 

The way the man decorated his time with you, making you stop and savor instead of the ususal rush and speed of force you leaned towards makes you ache. Small moments like this before he was inside you that made you feel things in a new way and you weren't exactly forcing yourself to like, but it'd been so long since you'd been surprised by sex that you hadn't been sure you could be now. But here you were. Who would've guessed such poisonous words could come from such sweet lips, that such worried hands as his could be so slow and tender when he wished them to be. Who would've guessed that it would be someone like him to show you something different. 

"These as well?" you ask, your thumbs hooking the band of your silk underwear. You sway your hips back and forth as you feel more than hear a rumbling laugh come from his chest.

His hands move yours away as they grip your hips tightly, fingers clasped against you, his palms flat against the silk. He cups his hand over you, holding you assertively, you mewl slightly as he moves your hips, solid between your thighs, back and forth with his hand. You hear low hum come from him, giving your soft mound a light smack before retreating his hands. 

"Mmmm. These as well." he gruff outs, his lips back to your shoulder for another kiss. 

You follow through and step out of them, he once again catches you off guard with how fast he can be as he spins you back around, and gently pushes you back on the bed. As you let out a soft laugh at your bouncing landing, you're already shifting to a whine as his thumbs slip underneath his suspenders. You scoot to the end of the bed, feet on the floor as you reach out, tugging the front of his trousers, as he raises an eyebrow at you. 

"Let me take them off." you insist. Grasping the fabric yourself, tugging him towards you.

"You like these, do ya luv?" he asks as you hum happily in response, dragging them down his shoulders slowly. 

"I do." you let them fall to his sides. Your fingers start to work away at his buttons. "I like them better like this though," you admit with a smile, fingers slipping under the shirt to touch his shoulders. He tilts his head slightly, you know he wants to inquire further in your words. "I think they're sexy in a very...relaxed, casual sort of way," you say, your eyes looking back up to him as you give him a small series of kisses, your hands moving back up his arms after removing his shirt. "But when they're on they do make you look as broad as a barn." you say in a low sultry voice, hands squeezing his arms. He gives you one of those half lidded glances that make you weak.

"You like big boys, eh?" he says with a dark chuckle, his arms wrapping around your waist as he pulls you close, planting single kisses to your chest. 

"Almost exclusively." you confess quietly. 

"What you wantin' with big boys like me, luv?" he asks in a gruff voice. You feel your body tense at his words, his mouth moving teasingly close to your nipples. 

"Besides being fun to look at..." you let out a small giggle and he smiles against your skin. "When I want to be submissive, I love the feel of a big body to back up the big talk. And when I don't want to be submissive, I find it much more fun to break the big ones down." a sneaky grin sits on your face.

"And which do you want of me tonight?" he asks in a quiet voice before he sucks one of your nipples into his mouth. You bite your lip to stifle the growing moan in your throat.

"So cooperative" you muse with a deep hum, your hand moving to run through his hair as he made your breath grow faster. "I've been drinking, cheri, I don't want to be on top." you say with a soft giggle that he mirrors, gently biting at your breast. "Biting is a good place to start though." you laugh, he sucks harder and grunts. Your eyes flutter shut, and you tug his hair slightly making his face tighter against you. "So is sucking on these tits like this, Alfie, fuck." you groan as he nips at you again.

His other hand moves back around you to roughly grab your other breast, moving you slightly. When he pinches your other nipple, he feels your thighs tense around him. "Tell me what else feels good." he rasps, tongue lapping away at your chest in a way that made you wonder if he was drunk as he was being utterly indulgent. 

"Hmmm." you pause to think, moaning as he keeps sending aching jolts of need to your center. "I do fancy some dirty talk." you grin, eyes still shut. "You certainly don't have any problem with that." you let out a small gasping laugh as he bites as you again with a small growl. 

"Fuck no, runnin' me mouths what I'm best at." he smirks prouldy, hands holding your breasts tight, holding your gaze as he bites and sucks. 

"I also fancy you running your mouth in other ways." you say with a smirk.

"Oh I planned on getting my mouth back on that silky little cunt tonight, luv." he hums, sucking away to disctract from the fact his hand was already at your lips, finger tips beginning to part them to graze over your clit. You move to spread your legs farther apart for him which he gives a purely masculine grunt in response, his fingers circling gently. As you settle back down, ass near the end of the bed, one finger slides into you and your hips buck lightly in response. He moves his mouth back to yours, one hand making your pulse race as it teases your clit, the other teasing another sensitive nub farther up as he envelopes your mouth with his in a power hungry kiss. You let yourself melt as he winds you up like you're a machine. "You're still so tight, sweetheart." he hisses into your trembling lips as two of his thick fingers slide into you. "Barely even take my fingers you little thing." he says in a slightly condescending way that by the response of another buck of your hips indicates you're very much into. "I bet you like it when it hurts though...don't you?" he says in a lower register, hand grasping your breast harshly. 

You let out a small noise of pleasure and surprise as he paces his fingers in and out of you. "I do a bit, yeah." you say in a sassier retort, your breathing becoming noisier as he probed you with his fingers, mapping you out. 

"Oh she does, does she?" he gives you a soft groan, a quick harsh kiss. "Ya want me to be a bit rough with ya?" he inquires, his nose brushing against yous. 

"Yes." you nod and whisper.

"What's this bad girl want, eh?" he rasps out, another harsh kiss.

"You to keep up with the bad girl talk." you moan and wiggle your hips in a playful way as he pushes his fingers inside you slowly, as deeply as he could. "Good girl also works." you add, looking up at him from under your lashes, as your chest moves fast in response to your arousal. 

"I'll call ya a good girl when ya earn it." he groans, biting your lower lip. You hum and close your eyes in a clear display of encouragment. 

"Can a bad girl tell you how she wants you to fuck her?" your words cause him to meet your eyes, eliciting a moan from him, his brows twitching as they take in your lustful face. 

"Mmph, I insist." he sounds so strung out, you hold his wrist of the arm he's pumping into you with, an agonizingly slow build to anything substantial but it felt so good to get there. 

"I like getting fucked hard," you say with no hesitation, the clicking annunciation of your words make his eyes roll back in his head before he dives down to suck your still hard nipple into his mouth. "And getting spanked when you're inside me." he raises and eyebrow in question, pouting mouth still sucking away at you. "My ass, my tits, and if you can do it without bruising the merchandise, I do love a good stern slap to the cheek. Whether in enthusiasm or punishment." you lean closer to his ear and whisper. "Although I prefer the enthusiastic ones after you've pulled my gasping mouth off your throbbin' cock." you say slowly, trying to tease him. 

"Fuckin' hell." he growls, hand grabbing you by the hair, desperate, sloppy mouths crash against each other, "This fucking mouth, Gen." he scolds, holding your chin tightly. 

"You want to know what I want so I'm telling you." you say quietly, his mouth sucking away your neck now. His fingers twist in a distracting way and make you cry out. "Fuck that's good." you moan. 

"Keep tellin me luv. How do you want me to fuck you?" He repeats the action and your mouth drops open. "So I can know what to do with you after I make you come around my fingers, eh?" he drops his head to between your legs, another surprisingly fast movement from him as he pushes back your knees and his tongue laps slowly against you, his fingers doing deep small thrusts, the movement inside you making your swears grow loud quickly. "Tell me." he growls, mouth latched on your clit as your let out an excitedly playful sound.

"From-" you groan. " From behind." you cry out, his fingers taking longer more pounding strokes. "Fuck." you growl, your body getting chills at how close you were. "Bend me over and fuck me like you mean it." your voice is feminine, low and demanding. He moans around your clit. It was clear he was not messing an amateur here, you were meeting him with every button he tried to push and he couldn't remember any time since puberty that he'd been this hard without being touched. Your enthusiastic but not overly dramatic reactions from your body when he touched you made him want to never take his hands off you.

"And after you come for me, that's what you'll get, innit it?" he says in a condescending way, lips and tongue diving back into your folds hungrily. More growls ensue that send vibrations that make you hear ringing in your ears. 

You don't know if he requires an answer but a helpless "Mmm Hmm." comes out as you nod, watching him manipulate your body, control it and direct it where he wanted it to go to like you were old friends, lovers who knew each other's body's like old stomping grounds. His sucking lips and his stroking fingers take your breath away in gasps, as your body convulses and your hips start to uncontrollably roll. 

He stays on your clit, both arms moving around your legs and holding you still with a growl, tongue working every second possible out of that orgasm. He feels your hand tremble, laced in his hair and he pulls back. "That's a good girl." he praises, your eyes still fluttering and your mouth still panting as you watching him lean over you, wiping his mouth with the bend in his elbow before he continues your aroused state with a deep kiss. 

He moves quickly again, his body moving as fast as his mind, grabbing your hips and flipping you, rolling you as he stands, one hand moving you and the other taking off his trousers with whip fast accurate movements that made your breath hitch in their subtle dominance. 

He's pulled you up by the hips, knees on the bed, you feel the hard heat of him against your wet lips as he strokes back and forth before you gasp loudly at the feeling of his head notching into you. He groans as you tighten around him as he slowly but steadily pushes into you, your hands on the bed to hold yourself up, his clamped down on your hips. 

"How do you still feel so fucking thick?" you moan and squeak, hips twitching as you take him in. "Shit." you moan breathily as he bottoms out inside you. "So fucking good." you moan out shamelessly as he pulls out and slams back in. You were still on edge from his mouth and fingers, your insides swollen and twitching. He growls as he slaps his hand down on one of your ass cheeks and you meet his actions with a squirming squeal that makes him twitch inside you as you flip your head up, hair cascading down your back, hitting his roaming hands, laying out the land of your curves as he savored the view of you from behind. 

"Fucking take it like a good girl, now, yeah?" he groans, that same power and patronizing mix that he perfects. His hands hold your lower back forcing your top half down and pounding into you. 

You gasp and cry out, head bobbing with the force of him as he hit you do deep you see stars. "So fucking deep, Alfie." you moan as you manage to raise your head, forearms back on the bed. "Fuck yes." you groan, trying to move your hips back at him. You're both sweating, grunting animals in this moment and you feel it's exactly what you needed. You feel that moment where you let go completely and unexpectedly find yourself having fun. He slaps your ass again, slamming and holding himself in you for a moment as you wiggle out of instinct, crying out in surprise as he hits you again, followed by your shameless swearing through clenched teeth as you bucked yourself back at him, loudly demanding more.

"You are a bad girl, aren't you?" he groans, kneeling over you to bite at your back, his hands groping your breasts. 

You moan back in response, a soft and enthusiastic sound that makes his eyes roll back in his head. The loud, sharp slaps of him against you punctuate each matching set of moans from you and grunts from him. 

Your hands shake as your head falls, being fucked up the bed by force, you try to push back to make him go that much deeper but he's hitting into you so deliciously your motor skills want to fail. 

You hear a growl after a sharp slap, hand grabbing your hair, his other hand pulling you up from your sternum towards him. "C'mere." he growls. His head turned, breath fast and heavy in your ear as he holds your head back, throat bare, held against his chest. 

You let out the most needful sounding moan of, "Votre bite, Alfie. La baise." as he moans, open mouthed in his wanton need of more of what you were doing to him. As he moves in swift strokes, you say another prayer for the curve in his cock and gasp out, "Juste ici..." your voice grows higher pitched, meek and soft in its intoxicating way as your hands clutch to his forearm. He releases your hair and moves his hand between your legs and you shout at the contact. 

He can't handle the surges of blood your weakened voice gives him, his eyes shut, snarling lips pressed against your ear, giving himself over as he see's you're doing the same. "Take it, luv. Take Every fuckin' bit 'a me." he groans, you feel his open panting mouth pressed against your hair as you hear deeper and more guttural noises come out of him. Your hips start to stutter as he rubs your clit and you moan helplessly, thighs shaking as he keeps jarring your body. 

Your whole body tenses, holding yourself up against the barage of pounding he's giving you. You want to try to encourage him with your words because you love it when he does it for you. Your thighs slowly spread farther apart on the bed as your body wordlessly asks for more, opening yourself up to him. You try to cry out his name, arch your back and request more enthusiastically with a personal call. "Ah-" comes out in a squeak, only the first syllable comes as he cuts you short with a jolting slam. So you try again, and you fail, the first syllable only coming, you let out a low noise of appreciation for the work he's putting in on you, stealing his own name from your mouth. You try a slightly different approach. "Ah." he plunges into you again, "'Fie." you call out. His ears pick up what you're trying to do and he lets out a dark lustful groan that's followed by another sharp slap to your ass. "Ah. 'Fie." you cry out again, finding the cries are helping you pace yourself, as you both collide forcefully with each other. With a twist of his hips, pushing two fingers in reckless circles, giving you a sharp slap to your swollen clit as you yelp, "'Fie." in a shameless whine, mouth panting and wet as his eyes rolled back into his head. He feels you're close, tilting his hips up and hitting you where you want it, a steady and solid weight jarring your whole body, you whimper his name helplessly again, "'Fie." Your black eyes bat up at him as the sound prys him from his own mind and he kisses you, hand creeping up your neck from your chest, moving your mouth to his completely. "Mon 'Fie. Je suis aller a jouir." you whisper against his lips. You move an arm up to behind his head, clutching at his hair to hold him close. 

He drinks down the repeating cycle of these words and he feels your mouth tremble open, your breath catching, clenching around him so tightly he swore directly in your mouth. Only you could find yet another way to call his name that made his need for you grow past something he was totally in control of. His kisses grow harsher, fingers pushing your jaw towards him more forcefully as you convulsed around him. Your fingers stung into his skin as they trembled, grasping his hand as you shook and moaned beneath his touch in a mesmerizingly graceless way, watching you give yourself over to him.

"That's a good girl, finish me off with that velvet cunt." his voice is strung out, his hand now gripping your inner thigh, having made your sensitive sex scream at his touch. He holds you and hits you so hard and fast, chsing his end that you just hold your mouth open and gasp when you can as the fullness he makes you feel makes your thighs shake again. You feel him pull out of you, and as he pressses and rocks himself back and forth between your ass cheeks. His mouth is panting against you, you're both stuck in broken cycles of swears and noises of exasperation as you feel his release across your back, back to slowly moving his lips against yours passionately before he was even done rutting away at you. He roams his hands, now gentle against your warm, slick, pliable softness with a still lustful but less aggressive moan. 

He moves you even after all that like you weigh nothing, separating your bodies as he uses his hands that span across almost your entire rib cage and lays you on your stomach on the bed. "Be back, luv." he instructs, you hear his feet moving to the bathroom.

You're half turned, face looing back at him as he returns. "Just a gorgous as when I left it." he hums with a satisfied smile, wiping off your back. He then crawls into the bed with a groan as you watch him slink up past you. He turns to reach for you as you lift yourself up, you lay side by side in the piles of pillows at the head of the bed, the coolness of their surface welcome with a groan by you both. 

"I knew I needed that, but I didn't know how badly," you say with an amused, high pitched laugh. "Gonna be proper sore come morning." you say with a content smile, rolling to your side to face him. 

"Yeah I'm gonna feel 'at later." he says with a gritty laugh. "I fuckin' needed 'at as well." he says with an audible gulp. 

You give a muffled hum of agreement, hearing you swallow and sigh heavily, your hands laying limp on your chest and stomach as you recover. "I'm as limp as an overdone noodle," you say with a snort. "Don't remember last time I had the words fucked out of me." you say with a reflective chuckle, your hand reaching over to clumsily pat his stomach in a show of your praise that was attatched to your words. "Your cock took up so much room in me I only had space for one half of your name." you say with a shoulder shaking laugh. 

He lets out a short raspberry with his lips, looking over at you with a dumb smile on his face, watching you giggle, moving your mane like hair out of your face. 

"I 'eard Ah or Fie but not much of 'em together." he teases, reaching out and lazily pointing a finger at you as you roll to your stomach, your face now resting on a pillow you've pulled underneath you. 

"I think I mixed it in with some French?" you ask yourself, he hums in content at the goofy, sincere smile that doesn't leave your face now. "Oui, oui. Mon 'Fie. Si je me souviens bien." you say with a shrug. 

One of his arms moves to rest behind his head as you let out a heavy sigh at the sight, licking your lips despite yourself. You look down the strong mass of him, muscles under the inked skin hiding the bones, making him look bulkier and in your opinion, and mouth-wateringly appealing. 

"If I did have to pick a syllable to call you out of the two, I do believe I'd go with 'Fie." you nod and snuggle the pillow under you.

"But if you chose Ah, every time you see me it would sound as if I've given you a wonderful idea just by being present." he tries to sell with a straight face and furrowed brow that doesn't last long as you roll your eyes and nod at him, hand running through your hair, your gaze across the room under your half-lidded eyes. 

"And when I failed to deliver upon such a vocal tease for anyone else's wondering ears, you would continue to be the only one to ever find it funny." you taunt, grin across your mouth, eyes closed as your hand lays partially over your face as your arm rests above it. "I'll stick with 'Fie."

"Fine." he gruffs, reaching to pull the covers away from and then over you both.

"You get to call me Gen and I even let you get away with those Genny's from time to time, so I get to have a nickname for you." you grumble, opening one eye at him to make sure he's paying attention. Which wondering such a thing about him is the most unfounded question as you see his relaxed face, eyes calm pools, already set on yours as you give an involuntary small smile, but loud in the way it ends with your bottom lip between your teeth as you realize he's already watching you. 

How could he not be watching you, naked and freshly fucked next to him? "And I said 'is fine dinnit I?" he defends himself with a chuckle, his toes wiggling as he amused himself still at your somehow endearing defensiveness on such trivial things. Such as nicknames. 

You suck your bottom lip into your mouth as your fingers have the odd desire to know what his chest chair would feel like under the light touch of your fingertips. You find yourself following the trail of hair that leads from the density of his chest, tapered only to spread again into the dark, surprisingly soft hair between his strong, thick thighs. The sight of him in recline, feet crossed at the ankles, naked as the day he was born, his laughing form making the bed shake beneath him makes you wrinkle your nose as you find yourself conflicted with your usual after sex habits.

When fucked to this degree, this wonderfully tenderized and placated degree, you usually rolled away and found yourself staying in dreamless sleep. But you found yourself not doing that. You laid there, you talked about absolutely nothing, falling in and out of discussion as the moon moved across the sky.

You don't remember when you fell asleep, or who did first, but you do remember thinking as you faded into sleep, that you finally felt like you knew first hand what the girls you'd kept company with in your younger days meant when they'd giggle about pillow talk with their lovers. Your post-sex behavior could be summed up with the expression you'd heard yourself referred to as, 'wham, bam, thank you ma'am'. You rub your face back and forth into the pillow one last time with a grunt before you fall asleep just in time to not notice the new empty feeling growing in your chest as your tired brain made the important connection of present to your past.


	31. Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song is Hands by The Raconteurs.

You've seen him wince too many times tonight. It's making you chew a sore spot in your cheek as you watch his small tells, a lip twitch, a stretching and clenching of a hand giving away his pain. You felt partially responsible, and you were to some extent. Being physical with the man wouldn't be anything new, but what you wanted to suggest you weren't sure he'd be up for. 

You knew he'd love it if you could get him to relax, which is something you've found he had a very hard time doing. The sex had helped his mood noticeably, as well as yours. You weren't sure if it was the good mood you were forthputting now or getting to see Alfie in full form as he sauntered into the bathroom naked on occasion in the morning that had the girls that worked for you in such a cheery state. You knew if you had to listen to you and Solomons have sex and weren't a participant, the enviable performance sounds would have done exactly the opposite of that for you.

Because of those romps together, and with no help from your preference for hard and fast, your poor Alfie has found himself a bit worse for wear. You knew he'd also been working late this week, he was worn down in too many ways to even give you his usual cheekiness at this point in the evening on a Friday night. Instead, he sat in his pajamas, glasses under roaming eyes as he read. This was interrupted yet again with a grunt as he resituates himself in the seat. You knew what would help him feel better, you even more willing to do it for him, despite how tiring you did find it. You sigh and frown at the man that isn't shining as brightly as he usually does sitting across from you. 

"Alfie?" you lilt out, your sweet call to try to set a willing mood. 

"Mmmph?" is your grunted response. 

"You're hurting again aren't you?" you ask, making his nose wrinkle as he didn't want to talk about it, already feeling less than for not feeling up to his preferred Friday night habit of fucking you. 

"Eh." he gruffs out, giving you that hesitancy as his mouth opens and closes, eyes sliding over to you in an angry pout. 

You rise and move to sit next to him on the couch, one foot on the ground, the other leg tucked under you as you place your hands gently on his thigh. "I'm certain I could make it hurt less if you're open to me getting my hands on you." you look over at him with those big doe eyes, asking things of him with their appearance. 

He narrows his eyes at you, rest of his face neutral. "That's what's caused this flare up I'm in now." he says in a gritty, deeper voice, eyebrow cocking at his obvious tone.

You slump your shoulders. "I don't mean like that," you say with a scrunched up face, brows heavy, showing your disapproving expression clearly. "I'm trying to help, not make it worse." you say, an easy going smile back on your face as you look away from him as you speak. 

"Then fuckin' what, Gen?" he says with the impatience in his voice. His aggressive finger picks at a spot of dry skin by his ear, his psoriasis flaring up, giving away how stressed he was. You frown at the cranky man beside you.

"Stop picking." you order, taking his hand and holding it down gently with yours. "You're nearly a mess, Alfie." you sigh, your eyes that aren't as scolding as he expected them to be meet his. "Let me take you to bed with other purposes besides sex, and let me get my hands on you, work all that stress out of you." your tone is polite and asking, not commanding. 

"What ya wanna do that for? Ya can just leave me be now, Genevieve." he grumbles. My goodness he was sore in ways besides physical with you this week. 

"You know I'm not going to," you say in a non-threatening but obvious way, your doe eyes now giving him a small hopeful smile that breaks his resolve. He never thought softness would be his weakness. But he did so very badly, knowingly or not, need more softness in his life. "And you know I'm good with my hands." you say playfully, nudging his leg with yours. 

He sighs and looks at you, your patient face willing to work with his cranky stubbornness. 

"You love how soft my skin is, why don't you let me soften you up a bit Solomons?" you give him a pouy, nudging his bicep with your hand. "I'll work you like you do your dough, darling." you say with a silent laugh, still smiling at him, as he knew you could tell you were winning with your kind insistence, trying to get him to act in his best interests for once. "Let me take that screamin' angry back of yours and turn it into a purring kitten." you say with a bat of your lashes, leaning away from him, preparing to rise from the seat. "You don't have to tell me why you're stressed but I'd like you to admit you are and let me help you, you stubborn man." you say in a slightly more scolding tone.

"I don't like gettin' all fussed on when me backs actin' like 'is." he grumbles. 

"I'm offering you a way out of being in this mood, Alfie." you state obviously. "Only reason there's fussin' is that you're fighting me on it." you say with crossed arms, giving him a disappointed face a man never wanted to see directed his way. 

"Fuckin' 'ell Gen, ya pest." he grumbles, groaning and standing as your victorious smile is unfiltered and beaming at him as you take his arm in yours and lead him to your room, whispering a thank you as you do.   
\--  
"C'mon, bottom half as well." you say with a clap, chucking to yourself as he grunts while getting settled into the middle of the bed on his back. You hook your fingers under all his layers.

"Completely starkers..." he huffs out, kicking his legs at you slowly as you tugged off all his clothes and laughed at his cranky tone. "Not a stitch 'n you still dressed 'n all. Seems like a set up, mate." he groans in his hesitancy to roll to his stomach as you smirk at him and give his bum a tiny whisper of a pat. He hears the rustling of fabric after his statement, wishing he could turn to see what mischief you were up to. 

"Only a set up for me to work my magic on you." you say, silent laughing to yourself at your choice of words. "But you have a point on the clothes so..." you take off your soft blue slip, "There, now I don't have to worry about ruining that." he is tossed back and forth slightly as you walk on your knees to him, straddling his bum, he feels the cold glass of the bottles roll to touch his sides as you settle. "But now you have to think about how I'll be naked doing this to you. Brought that on yourself, you did." you lean in to peck a kiss between his shoulders, "Silly man. Gonna be cold for just a tick, babes." you say, distracted, mixing a few oils in your hands. You think he's groaning in response to your words, but your breasts had placed their soft selves against his bare back when you'd kissed him and now he was eating his words about you not wearing anything either. "I'm gonna start at your shoulders, so try not to tense and hurt yourself if it's cold or tingly, alright?" you say in the sweetest voice. 

He nods and grunts face first into a pillow. 

Your start your hands light, warming him up and getting his raw nerves comfortable with the rhythmic movements your hands brought. After you've rubbed him down gently, back, arms, and arse with the color and softness starting to return to his dry skin from the mixture you were using on him. You weren't pushing hard but the way his body didn't flinch as you stroked it, and the now calmer breathing, littered with small noises of enjoyment from being touched, you knew we he starting to enjoy himself.

"I'm going to start pushing harder on you now, alright? I'll be working these knots out of you so just let me know where it hurts when I ask, 'kay luv?" you coo sweetly, bringing your hands to his lower back. 

He nods and grunts in response. 

"Alright, when I say inhale, you inhale, and as I push on your back you exhale." you say indifferently, wanting to make sure he knew your instruction. 

Another grunt in response. 

"Big inhale." you say doing the same. "Full exhale." you command, pushing both your hands up his back, sliding over the slick surface, pops and cracks as you flatten him out up to his shoulders slowly. 

His wordless exhale soon turns into a long drawn out groan. 

"That's a good boy, now. Again." you say light-heartedly, starting at the base of his back and up again, hard and slow, repeating until he no longer popped and cracked. 

"Nothin' 'bout no boy." he groans. "I'm feelin' old as fuckin' dirt with these noises carryin' on." he whines. "Ain't no good at all." he sighs. 

"Not that you are, but who cares if you're an old man?" you say supportively. "You certainly don't fuck like one, dear." you offer to console his bruised ego. "A girl needs a dirty old man around to make her feel young and wanted, anyway doesn't she?" you say with a chuckle, your fingers mapping out his ribs and searching for his tension as you tried to pump him full of praise. Men always seemed to act better when you would stroke their ego, and you didn't mind helping out your poor, aching friend who seemed in need of a pick me up.

"So 'ats why you had me move in..." he says as if he's serious. You give him a small smack on his muscular bum. 

"Yes, that's entirely why. Did you not know?" you say, moving both your bodies from your laughter, rubbing a hard place with your elbow as he groans. "Certainly not because you were respectful. Or for your cleverness. And absolutely nothing to do with your sense of humor. None of those things were factors." you grin, hearing his noises shift to something much more soft and delicate at the praise, feeling him soften up under your hands.

He doesn't respond but you feel him finally lose all that tension he was unconsciously holding. 

You reach his lower back, scooting back to below his bum with your hips. "Which leg is it that it hurts down, dear?" you ask, your thumbs rubbing slow circles on either side of his spine. 

"Right." he gruffs out, face totally relaxed as he moved his head to the side. 

"Any of this hurt?" you inquire, your fingers walking their way down his cheek and upper thigh. 

"Nuh uh" he groans. You smile in response, shaking your head at his pouty lips before working his hips, thumbs on the outside of his cheeks and he lets out a loud groan as you start to chuckle again.

"Oh he likes that." you coo at him, grinning as you continued. "Have to oil up these creaky hinges, don't we?" you say in a baby talk tone. "You're doing wonderfully dear, just keep your breathing slow." you remind him.   
After he's a shining, knot free, damn fine specimen you get to the part that's going to tire you out. You re-oil your hands with a different bottle. Taking slow deep breaths and rubbing your hands together. 

"Now I'm going to go move back up to your back, sweetie." you let him know, hopping back up him. "Now you're just going to focus on relaxing. Okay? I've worked out the knots, you keep your body and mind calm now."

"I ain't very good at relaxin' me mind." he grumbles. You had figured he would say that, and here he was, playing into your plan perfectly.

"Then let's see if the meditation I do works on you then, hmmm?" you ask cheerfully. 

"Wassat?" he asks, voice nowhere near the tone you wanted it. 

"The breathing is important. Keep your breathing with mine. The timing is important to bring all the oxygen to your organs and brain to make you feel better. You just have to be willing to try to focus alright?" you say, patting his back before you stretch and crack your knuckles.

He grunts and nods, moving his head back to straightforward in a pillow.

"Breathe with me Alfie. In and out." you set a slow pace, closing your eyes, feeling the warmth of his skin under your hands, your fingertips feeling every freckle, tattoo, and scar. Feeling your chests expand and compress at the same time. 

You didn't know how Alfie would feel about you using your techniques on him. You had done this for people before sure, but they knew you were trying to cleanse them. And it was certain as you instructed him to clear his mind, letting yours find that calm, still place in yourself, that he was full of bad energy. 

Keeping your words paced with the rhythmic breathing, you instruct, "Now imagine all that stress...all that anger and annoyance...all those negative feelings...paranoia...guilt. Imagine all those are just black smoke. Smoke that has built up inside you for too long. You can feel it moving around, trying to take you over. But as you take a deep breath in...you're inhaling light." you feel his hesitation as you try to connect with him. "If you focus it'll work Alfie, I promise. Indulge me." you say softly, feeling him give up that control again. "When you breathe in the light, you exhale the dark." You push up on him as he exhales, seeing yourself in your minds eye pushing that toxicity out of him. 

You felt your hair around your face getting damp from sweating. This was taking a lot out of you, it always did, but of course, he was a particularly stubborn case. It was almost as if he had something clinging to him. Something dark that did not want to let go. Something that would take more than one round of this to keep out of him. You pushed harder on the exhaling, flattening him out and focusing. He's being completely compliant and you couldn't be more grateful. Your breathing is getting more labored, still working him like dough, using your own inner calm, that light you fight so hard to keep balanced in yourself over to him. You weren't even sure why you felt so compelled to connect with him in such a way, as it was such a chore. But you finally feel it after a particularly tense exhale, that moment where the tension snaps. The calm falls over you, like snowflakes, slowly descending and landing on you in tiny frozen drops, a calm quiet like you'd find on a winter night. 

You hear a quiet exhale from him as you feel the click, you're flooded with relief. You force your eyes open, still rhythmically connected with the plying of his body as your eyes flutter and you take in a shaky exhale. The feeling resembling that over holding your breath underwater for almost too long and coming up, gasping for air. Your brow furrowed, the tiredness in your muscles hitting you, the soft focus view of everything that comes for you after doing work like this make you whimper before you straighten up and move off him. 

You lay in the bed next to him on your back. He's not moved, a limp noodle who was, thanks to you, blissed out and relaxed in what was the first time in years it must've been with as backed up as he was. 

You're exhausted, yawning and stretching. He stirs with a groan, looking at you with no furrow in his brow. 

"Right." he says as if he's just noticed you'd stopped. He inhales, rubbing his face, and starts to turn to his side. He doesn't grunt or groan. "Fuck me..." he says softly, as he isn't a mass of tension for the first time he can recall. "C'mere," he says, pulling you over to him, chest to chest. "What the fuck did you do you angel?" he says with a quiet laugh. "I feel much better, luv." he takes a deep breath, his eyes blinking slowly, hooded and soft breath escape his soft lips. "Much fuckin' better." he says with an amazement to his tone. "Thank you." he says, placing a kiss to your forehead. He sure was handsome blissed out like this, you thought. His hair was messy, his noises soft and happy. 

"While you're in a good mood let me rub this excess oil off on you." you mumble, lazily grinning as you run your hands over his face. Your soft hands, warm and smooth rub over his dry skin, fingertips circling wherever you found dry spots, rubbing his temples lightly to keep him still as your fingers ran through his beard, coating it in the oil as well. "You'll be as soft as me in no time if you use this stuff." you say softly, a quiet hum from your happiness he was letting you fuss over him in such a way. "It'll help your skin and your beard. You won't be able to keep the ladies hands off you if you're all cuddly." you say with a small huff of amusement, grinning again at him.

"Don't worry 'bout me skin." he pouts, you sensed it was a delicate subject, and you understood his hesitancy. If he'd had people take the piss out of him for this glasses, you're sure some piece of shit has something about his spots. You knew of only one way to try to help such an insecurity. 

You look up at him, his head hanging slightly over you, your fingers go immediately to the spots, your thumbs rubbing over them as you hold his face, your eyes move over his features. You'd never cared about the spots yourself, but you knew what they were and something like a skin condition wasn't something that would take away from anyone's attractiveness as far as you were concerned. Especially when the attraction was beyond physical from the start on your behalf. 

"I never have." you say softly, your lips pouted, your eyes still tired but the feeling you made him feel when you looked into his eyes like that made the words take the breath out of him like a hit to the gut. He felt resentful for a moment. That you could cut away at him like this, keep catching him off guard with simple gestures that felt more like loud declarations. "Perhaps I should reveal my selfish motives for wanting you so soft?" your closed mouth smile, your tiny hum as you exhaled all kept his eyes on you. 

He nods, his eyes moving slowly over your face as you look away a moment to take a deep breath and move your fingers to his disshelved hair. 

"You aren't the only one of us that likes to touch soft things, you know." you raise an eyebrow at him. "If your beard was less wirey, it'd make it more pleasant to kiss you." you admit with a subtle tilt of your head.

"You certainly know how to talk a man into doing what you want, don't you?" he says with a soft chuckle, brushing a bit of your hair starting to dry now and curl, little waves surrounding your face and framing it like filigree. He goes against his better judgment and kisses you. You gently accept with small pressure given back to him from your lips. 

"Do I?" you ask in a mischievous tone. 

"Humble as always." he says, chuckling as he kisses you again. You can feel he wants more by the way he exhales before his tongue brushes against your lips. You shake your head at him and he retreats.

"Your back, 'Fie." you remind him.

"Well ya went and fixed it, dinnit ya?" he retorts. 

"No, you have to rest." you say more forcefully but you laugh as his face has moved to your chest.

"Nah." he groans at you as you laugh, your hand now on his shoulder, the other in his hair.

"I'm not going to have you going and hurting yourself just because you're feeling a bit spry now." you scold, voice still sweet and soft. "Can I talk you into going to sleep instead?" you suggest in a whiney voice as he nips at you before raising his face to yours. "I'm tired. I know you're tired. If you wanna fool around tomorrow night I might say yes if you are still pain-free and you talk to me proper nice." you say with a raising of your chin to his, shaking your head as your charming smile once again gets him to agree to whatever it wants.


	32. Growing On Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song Is Growing On Me by The Darkness.

He's come home to an eerily silent house. No one answers him at the door, and he sees no one on the way to his room. As he's changed into something more comfortable and made his way cautiously around the house, subconsciously heading straight for your room, turning swiftly as he hears a noise from the kitchen. 

He pads down the dim back hallways of the house that connect almost all the rooms. He hears you and exhales noisily, putting his gun into the back of his trousers. He moves towards the sound of you talking to yourself as you're leaning over slightly, hands on your knees, looking into the oven window. You have a lovely flowing blue dress on, your hair pulled back messily, bits loose and pieces fall in no certain order. 

"Where is everyone?" you hear Alfie call from the other side of the kitchen.

"It's a summer day off I give the house staff before my birthday." you explain, turning to face him, showing a smudged apron and a flushed face. 

"What do ya do that for?" he asks, chin moving up as he approaches you, hand on the large wooden butcher block top of the island in the center of the kitchen.

"Well it's very stressful on them. The planning, the cleaning up, tending to guests. It can get a bit wild so some can come upon uncomfortable situations and I like my people happy so I give them time off before and after the party." you explain, laying your pot holders to the surface his hand rested on. 

"Well that's nice of ya innit?" he asks rhetorically, looking into the oven behidn you. "What ya got in there?" he asks, head nodding towards the dish.

"Dinner." you say with a chuckle. "Hopefully. It's been well over ten years since I've made it." you say with an uneasy smile and a shrug. 

"Well what is it?" he clarifies.

"A Potato Kugel." you say, moving with him as he walks towards the oven.

"What ya makin' a Kugel for luv?" he says with a surprised look on his face. 

You turn to sit on a stool by the counter. "Well Aggie reminded me it was the anniversary of Ida's death and got me feeling all nostalgic." you say with sweet inflection to your voice.

"Who's Ida?" he asks, turning to you, hands in his pockets.

"She was the nurse I had from before I even born." your lashes flutter, your eyes moving around the room in memory. 

"Has Agatha not been with ya that long?" 

"She worked in the same home, but she wasn't my personally assigned nurse." you explain.

"Personally assigned nurse. I forget how posh your upbringing was sometimes." he admits with a small half smile and a quick tilt of his head. 

"Hush." you say with a chuckle.

"Was this something Ida made?"

"Yes. I loved it when I was younger. She'd made me one special sometimes." he adores the girlish smile that comes across your face as a good memory dances behind your eyes. 

"Was Ida one of mine?" he asks, turning his eyes back to the oven for a moment.

"Yeah." you laugh, finding the way he asked his questions very entertaining from time to time. "I don't know much beyond her being Russian and Jewish though." you admit with a furrowed brow. 

"Oi, she was like me 'en wunnit she?" he lets out a surprisingly loud laugh.

"Are you Russian?" you ask, your surprise clear in your high pitched voice.

He grins at your big eyes and open mouth. "Me mother was." he says with a nod.

"Well that's a bit of serendipity isn't it?" you say with a childlike wonderment on your face. "That's lovely." you say with a very charming smile, kicking your feet as they don't touch the floor in the high chair. 

"Well we'll remember her fondly tonight with this." you say with a heavy sigh. "Aggie thought I could make it from memory. Although I'm not entriely convinced yet that her faith is misplaced, I just haven't cooked anything in so long."

"Yeah I don't know that I've ever seen ya do much besides put jam on toast." he pauses, his fingers pick at his beard as he thinks. "Nah, you's heatin' up leftovers in a pan one night in 'ere wunnt ya?" he chuckles.

"I'm perfectly capable of cooking, I just haven't had to in awhile. Aggie thought it might be nice for me to make something to eat for once since it'd be just a handful of us here tonight. Not like I had to make a huge meal." you elaborate.

"And what better to make than a Kugel?" he says with a grin.

Then it hits you and you start to laugh, your face moving to your hands on the counter. 

"What?" he asks, eyes getting wider.

"I got fucking worked by cheeky 'ol Ags is what." you groan out. "Fell right fucking into that." you sigh, turning to face him, wiping your fingers under your eyes. 

He stands, raised eyebrows still waiting for a response. 

"It's only going to be a few people here tonight. She knew she could use Ida as an excuse to get me to cook. And of course, she lures me right into making a Jewish dish. And she knew you'd be here tonight for dinner. A dinner that I'm making...cooking for the first time since you've moved in...ya see where this is going?" you ask with a wrinkled nose. 

The realization blooms across his face as he laughs out loud, eyes crinkling at Agatha. "Relentless." he says with a shake of her head.

"So she IS bothering you about me as well? Because she's sure as fuck bother me about you." you both start to laugh. 

"Of fuckin' course she has been Genny." he says gruffly as if it were the most obvious fact in the world. 

"She is persistent if nothing else." you say with a sigh as you both laugh until a sigh builds between you, biding your time over the cripsing Kugel.

"I meant to tell ya when I came in 'an got so distracted by your divine skills in Jewish cookin' that I must've gotten sidetracked with the urge to propose and forgot." he says with a goofy smile.

You blink your eyes at him, giving him a playfully warning smirk. 

"I 'eard some boys talkin' 'bout you today." he says with an odd but not off putting expression. "And a few ladies, come to think." he adds with a nod.

"What?" you ask with an unsure shake of your head. 

"I 'eard you's the girl that knocked the granny out 'a Darby." he says proudly before his shoulders shake with a silent laugh.

"Oh, the word must be getting around then." you say with a big, slow nod. "It seemed I got hassled less today and I wasn't sure if it was coincidence or not." you say with a thoughtful pout.

"Apparently that second hit gave him a bit of a shiner and with the need for explanation, that he ain't givin', yeah? It's findin' its way around the rumor mill 'bout now. And apart from the normal derogatory terms that are inescapable amongst that sort of company, it's all about you being quite the little bearcat, roughin' up Darby 'n gangsters like me 'n the like." he gives you a sly smile. 

You study his face, still smirking at his words. "They aren't talking about us working together?"

"I 'on't fink nobody gives a flyin' fuck as long as the subject of a woman beatin' up a gangster is on the table." he says in a matter of fact sort of way that your find oddly relieving to hear. 

"Seems that worked out in my favor." you say with a huff of a laugh. 

"You got all of London whispering about what a tough little bird ya are, luv." he says quietly with a supportive smile, leaning in closer to you. 

You aren't really sure how to take the news. It was good, but you were still left nervous. You breathe a sigh of relief after a shielded reassuring smile at him before he moves to fetch drinks. The kitchen is quiet, but it's noisy in your head as you wonder how far the word would spread, and even more curious as to how that rumor might change as it traveled.  
\---------------  
You're raging with blood to back up your fury as you've barricaded yourself in your studio again for the few days. It isn't unknown to those who have been in your employee for any amount of time how you prefer to be left alone for a few days a month. And by left alone you mean you are probable to yell, and not in polite words at anyone who did anything to upset you. At this point, you ruled as a ditator in your household, you tried to compensate for your behavior with kindness to your staff, the poor dears. 

Alfie pads up the stairs, taking his time, listening to shouts from the landing above him, slowly coming into view. He hears a teacup smash and girl hunched over, trying not to look mad, shuffles out of your studio hurriedly. He stands and moves his head with her, watching her rush away. He returns his head with a quick swing as he hears Aggie's familiar sigh and a door shutting. 

"My word Mr. Solomons," she says rolling her eyes, "Why are you up here? I told you she wasn't fit for company, poor dear." she says, shoudlers slumped, clearly tired and bless her, she was still trying to shine this in a positive light. 

"Well she ain't come down for tea 'an then I's told she was feelin' poorly and I thought it proper to bring her somefin'." he says with a hopeful tone that makes Aggie shut her eyes and took a deep breath and hoping to herself that you'd see how thoughtful this man was one day. "I didn't know what was wrong so I just brought her 'is." he holds up a box from his bakery, flowers limply resting on top, wrapped in paper. 

Aggie frowns and he's entirely confused by the expresssion. He thought women liked these sorts of things. Her face is really scowling because of how pleasant he could be in his honesty with his shrugging shoulders and questioning brows. 

"You really didn't have to go to all that trouble." she says, biting the inside of her cheek at him. 

"Well, she coulda been fuckin' dyin' up here what with how no one would tell me what was wrong with her, eh?" he says with a nod, eyes wide. 

"She isn't always in such a foul mood," she says with one last sigh, moving away from the door, letting him enter by his own choice. "But there's always the chance she won't be miserable at you if you go in there and be your charmin', young self at her," she says matter of factly, moving slowly back to the stairs. "I don't care what she says, I know she likes it." she says in a sassy way and to no one in particular even though it was just the two of them upstairs. 

He clears his throat, readjusting the box in his grip and knocking swiftly on the door. 

"WHAT?" you state loudly, not in anger but in the least rude way you could get away with. The door opens with a quiet squeak as he pushes through his hesitancy, still not knowing what he would be met with. 

You are perched on a stool, back slightly hunched with one foot resting on the seat, the other hanging down. You were posed much like a gargoyle on a cathedral with your curved back, a claw-like pose of your hands around the paint brush, extended to the canvas as he enters.

"Genevieve?" you hear his familiar voice, it felt even more warm than usual. He must have been warned. You move your face, stone with a heavy brow to his wide eyed curious face with a sigh. 

"Alfie..." you sigh noisily. "Why are you here?" you ask in an annoyed drawn out way.

"Can I come In?" he asks politely, his lips pouting just slightly as your eyes narrowed at him, waiting to walk further into the room. At least he wasn't being a pest. 

"Fine." you groan, shaking your head and setting down your brush. You turn to see him walk in, the box you know to be from his bakery in his hands, your stomach grumbles at the sight. You notice the paper on the top actually conceals flowers and is not part of the box and your stone face breaks. 

The laugh starts in your chest, your eyes squeezing shut as you put your hands over your face as you laugh. You turn your head back to him as he approaches. You slowly drag your hands down your face, pulling bits of pieces of your already wild and haphazard bun that rested on top of your head down with your fingers. You sigh and exhale in a dramatic way. You leave one hand on your face, your fingers over your mouth. You've stopped laughing by the time he reaches your side. You take in his casual appearance, the smell of rum telling you he'd just gotten home from work.

His eyes meet yours, they're cheerful and you give a half smile at what he must've been told about you in this state. He sees your eyes reflecting something that he thought might be pity and he's not sure why. 

"You brought me fucking flowers? You absolute fool." your voice is deeper than usual, more gritty. 

"Well you weren't at tea and I was told you felt poorly so..." he shrugs and you lower your hand and take the flowers, moving both legs to a normal sitting position, sitting them on your lap. You readjust the black robe around your shoulders, the paper slides off the slick silk of the floor length gown. 

"Why in the hell did you bring me flowers and sweets?" you ask, sounding exasperated but your face read as indifferent, almost amused. 

"I was told you felt poorly." he says as if it's obvious. "I thought it proper to bring you somefin." he says in defense of himself. "We live in the same fuckin' house Genevieve, if ya sick, I'm not just gonna ignore you." as he speaks you take the box from his hands and open it, eating one of the round pastries.

"Perhaps you should." you say chewing slowly, your eyes looked tired, the circles under them more visible than the last time he'd seen you.

"Am I not allowed to bring you things when don't feel well now?" he sounds on the precipoce of annoyance to your difficult defaulted setting.

"They didn't tell you why I felt poorly I'm guessing" a single eyebrow raise and subtle half smile, breaking the tight lips that held too much tension.

"Well no but...what's that gotta do with anythin'?" he asks, shaking his head.

"Well, for your ease of understanding, if one were Jewish they might refer to me currently withe term, Niddah." you say, rolling your head back his way, looking for the understanding in his face. It was there. 

"Ah." he says rather loudly, making you flinch slightly as you felt sensitive to such things at the moment. "Well everything makes much more sense now, dunnit?" he says with a lazy smirk and a small chuckle as you clearly are holding back a smile, your brow low but your eyes not angry in any way. 

You shrug an eyebrow and your shoulders in response. 

"Well, you don't gotta separate yourself now do ya? What ya hidin' up here for?" he asks, shoulders losing their stiffness now, his head nodding with his words encouragingly. 

"When I feel particularly overwhelmed I isolate myself. I don't like being such a bear so I prefer to be alone," you say evenly, cooly, no offense meant. "I'm guessing your interpretation of ritual is a bit loose since you're still in the room?" you say with a smirk, side-eyeing him, cracking a joke. 

"Eh." he shrugs, his voice gruff. "I fuck up most days anyway dunnit I?" he offers with an easy going nod and eye roll at his own words. 

This makes you laugh again, a quiet, more chesty laugh, pieces of hair falling into your face as your shoulders shake. You raise your head nodding, taking another heavy breath and looking over him, your face tired but your smile still subtly worn. "Good it isn't kisses and hugs but rather food and solitary I crave while like this isn't it?" you say with a sarcastic tone, your face back to pleasant.

"After the maids warned me of your foul mood, I didn't think bringin' the former in here with me would be particularly useful. " he says with a smile, his eyes playful. 

"I'm never entirely opposed to anything." you say low, a humorus twist to your words, keeping your chuckle silent. "However, I do feel much like a busted old boot in this state." you admit, your face frowning slightly. 

"Well now I can't have ya talkin' like 'at about yourself now can I?" he says with a sarcastic over the top frown, moving towards you, you narrow your eyes as he approached with an extended arm. He wraps one around your shoulders, pulling you close to his side, after putting your arm around his waist despite your disapproving pout.

You hated how precious the action felt so much in fact, that you started to cramp again. 

"I won't wear out my welcome, luv." he says in a warm way that taps against your shield of pouting and frowns. Your raw state, your nostrils twitch at the masculine smell of him as your face was just short of grazing the loose fabric of his shirt. Your mood shifts quickly, as it often does and you swallow as the smell of him relaxes you, breaking through your grumpy phase and pulling you into your stage of craving comfort. "But will you be coming down? I bought some new books and I'm happy to bury my nose in those alone all night if that's what you wish, but I thought it worth askin'." he looks down at you, and you look at him with big kitten like eyes. You sigh and touch his hand that rests on your shoulder with your own. 

"You want me to come down for dinner?" you ask, your eyes narrowing from underneath, "Even in this state?" your voice gives away your surprise. 

"I want ya in any state, darling." he says, excessively and dramatically throwing his charm at you in an obnoxious way, his head shaking down towards yours, your noses almost touching.

"Fuck off with it now," you say low, your mouth smiling ever so slightly as you shove him away from you by the ribs. He laughs and holds his side as if you'd hurt him. "Fine. I'm fucking starving anyway." you sigh loudly , popping another pastry into your mouth.   
\-------  
You're outside in a lovely sheer green dress, matching silk slip, blending you into the rows of flowers as you moved in and out, heading towards the path to go in for tea. You're taking your gloves off, beating them outside the door as you look up and see down the long corridor that something rests on the table by the stairs that you hadn't put there, and in the midst of party planning this puts your senses on high alert. You toss the gloves into the box of tools and use the clean side of your apron to wipe the sweat from your face. You step over the boxes of food and decor for your party that lay in organized piles in the long hallway by the entryway to the kitchen. 

As you approach your brow furrows, your fingers reaching out lightly to touch the purple petals of an Iris. Your soft expression glances over the large floral arrangement that didn't match anything you'd ordered, you find a card inside. "It's not a field and it's not Faberge but it is French and sent with feeling. Happy Birthday." The swooping signature, as big and obnoxious as the man himself didn't have to be seen to know the alliteration to be of his doing. 

"What's these?" you hear Aggie ask moving the mixed arrangement of deep jewel tone flowers, the deep purple of iris's with their yellow accents, maroon and navy, all posed in a vase, black and bejeweled sits hidden under the cascading bottom of deep greenery, fluffing the whole thing to it's ground stature. 

"From the missus." you say with a laugh, watching Aggie's face as she reads the odd little poem he's left.

"Christ on the cross, Genevieve, this man," she says handing the paper back to you with a huff and readjustment of her apron. "Sometimes I think it's you that doesn't deserve him." she says, picking up the vase, already knowing to move it to your room. 

"Oui," you mumble, a subtle nod. "Sometimes I think that as well." you whisper out. A slow inhale and exhale, looking about the room, knowing you had no time right now to address such feelings that his personal touches left you with. You had a party to stage.


	33. Dance The Night Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song for the chapter is Dance The Night Away by Van Halen.

The night is planned and set. If everyone followed orders, the night would be one big wonderful foggy blank space come tomorrow evening. 

You're making your last rounds downstairs before people arrive, floating amongst the tall flower arrangments that sat on the gold and metallic linens, surrounded by gold chairs covered in bows and ribbon. Garlands of flowers covered the banisters, the columns and along the ceiling, hanging down from the second story balcony in the entryway. A champagne fountain in the ballroom, a table full of desserts in the dining room, everything was set and decorated and ready and you felt that wonderful adrenaline of anxiety from a good time being so near.

"C'mon ya little bird, flittering around the place." Freddie says, pushing you with both hands towards the kitchen. "One last thing you need to finalize before I get ahold of that mop on top of your head."

"What's left? I have the food with the sweets and the drinks..the drugs...the flowers...the band...the decoration...the garden is about finished, they're testing the lights right now." you're shaking your head and touching your fingertips to each other as if checking off a list with a furrowed brow.

"Well...I might've gotten you a little something of sorts." he says proudly.

"WHAT?" you squeak with eyebrows raised high, face darting back and forth.

"'Ere she is!" you hear Alfie's voice, your head tilting like a puppy at the sound as he's standing in the back hallway you're being rushed down.

"What's this?" you inquire as he moves his arm around your shoulders, Freddie moving past you. 

"We mighta conspired together for ya birthday. Puttin' my skills and his expertise together to make ya somethin', birthday girl." the smirk on his face is smug as hell and you give him a smile with narrowed eyes, watching his face as he spoke.

"What did my two best boys do?" you say in a baby talk inflection. "You two working together, my word, I do hope you aren't leading me to my death." you giggle and he gives your cheek a smooch as he turns you before you round the corner into the kitchen. 

"It ready?" he says, still grinning at you, but his face turned and calling out to Freddie. 

"Ready!" you hear Freddie lilt.

"Alright love. We thought there's one thing missin' from ya party, and especially it being ya birthday I thought it awful depressin' for you to not have one..."

"Just let me see!" you say bouncing a bit in excitement with your shoulders.

"Well stop bouncin' like 'at and I'll be able to stop looking at bits and let you go." he laughs, eyes crinkling.

"Let her go you big bad wolf!" Freddie calls out.

"Eh...alright." he says with a big grin, letting go of your shoulders. 

You round the corner like a child on Christmas morning. Before you sits a large cart with wheels and on top of it a giant birthday cake. You'd passed on a cake this year as you'd went with just a full bar of little sweets instead. But as soon as you saw it you knew they'd made the right call. 

"Holy fucking hell..." you say, your eyes big and bright, circling the towering cake. It's top tier sat so far above your head that you had to lean your head back to see it. It had four parts, each separated with lifts and filled with flowers that matched those you'd decorated the house in. They traveled up and down the cake in perfectly placed trails, cascading down the tiers of white frosting. The top tier was gold, covered in sugar that made it look as if it were glittering, catching the light perfectly. The bottom tier was decorated with little tiny beads of sugar, connected with indentions in the frosting to make it look like the linens you'd chosen for the ballroom. The other tiers white and plain, showing off the lovely flowers beautifully. You'd been circling the cake in silence with your mouth open. 

"Me n Freddie got together and put my bakin' and his design together and this is the creature we created."

"Might be the only joining of us I'll get close to but it was bloody fun." Freddie grins.

"Keep it in ya trousers Fred." you snort. "Plenty of other men for you to join together with will be here tonight." you laugh, putting your hands around Alfie's arm. 

"Ya callin' dibs, eh?" he smiles down at you with a wrinkled nose in teasing at you. 

"Well you're welcome to use me as a scapegoat if anyone unseemly comes onto you while you're here." you chuckle.

"Are you calling me unseemly? Don't tell the man doing your hair and makeup that unless ya wanna come out lookin' like a poodle who got into a bar fight." he puts his hands on his hips in an expression of his faux offense. 

"Just so happens that's the look I'm going for." you snark back.

"Well in that case, cheerio, my work is done here, goodnight. Find me buried in my bad decisions with drunk straight men if ya need me!" he moves his arms dramatically as his voice raises. 

"Why do I keep company like this?" you say in a lower voice, but still loud enough for Freddie to hear, smirking up at Alfie. 

"Because you reflect yourself in the company ya keep ya tart!" he laughs. "If you're going to act like you've never been buried in drunk straight men I'll call ya a liar."

With this Alfie lets out a laugh, his shoulders moving with it, showing it's sincerity. 

"Anyone besides someone wired wrong like us hearin' you talk to each other like 'at would think ya hated each other." he says with his laughter slowly fading. 

"That's because we do hate each other." Freddie grins, coming over to kiss your cheek.

"Yes, kisses now because I am not letting that mouth touch me after this party." you snort and he straight faces you, eyes moving to Alfie.

"And to believe I kissed her goodbye after you two fucked all night. Means I've practically kissed you myself! Tsk tsk tsk." Alfie laughs again and Freddie's eyes return to yours. "We've kissed after both of us doin' far worse than what we'll be up to tonight little miss léchouille." he says in a clear taunt, quirking an eyebrow up at you before turning to leave. 

"Léchouille?" Alfie asks. You sigh and huff out a laugh.

"He called me that after I got drunk one night and apparently went on to do a monologue about how much I enjoyed giving oral sex" you shrug and wait for a reaction.

Alfie laughs again, hand to his stomach. "Apparently I've not gotten you drunk on the right stuff." he chuckles. "Never had you confess anything to me while drunk." he says like the fact hurt his feelings.

"No but you have seen me in my Little Miss léchouille form haven't you?" you smirk.

"Oh well, fuck me, you're right." he says with a predatory grin. "You are proper talented at it though, luv. In defense of the nickname." he says low, forehead nearing yours. 

"I take no offense to it. I love it and I'm great at it so who's it hurt? Not me." you chuckle. "If someone wants to give me shit about the nickname, that just tells me they've never given or received a proper suck and I just feel sorry for them." you shake your head and move your hand dismissively. 

"You are somethin' else, Genny." his eyes moving across your face to take in the confident smirk. 

"Something else entirely, darling." you lilt, turning to face him and taking his hands in yours. "And on a more serious note, thank you for the cake. It's fucking beautiful. Breathtaking. Truly. You're an artist, cheri." you purr at him, moving your head in earnest. 

"Well you's all those things too innit ya?" he says with a wink. "I had to at least try to make it worthy to call YOUR birthday cake, dinnit I? Somefin' as gorgeous as you, eh?" he gives that little smug chin nod when he knows he's being charming and you willingly melt right into it. 

"I'll have to properly thank you for this later," you wink back, tongue between your teeth. "Maybe a nice...long...meeting with little miss léchouille?" you wiggle your eyebrows before you start to laugh.

He leans down to kiss you with a single, slow sensual peck, as he'd gotten very good at knowing what to do to make you putty in his hands when it came to sex. "You promisin' that with just this cake..." he grins and steps away from you. "I'm lookin' forward to hearin' what ya offer after your real present." he returns the wiggle of eyebrows before turning to walk back down the hall.

"My real...? What?! You got me more?! Alfie Solomons you charmer, I swear!" you squeak as you hear his laugh down the hall and you chase after him.  
\----

You have your record player on in your room, the band downstairs in the ballroom playing faintly in the background. You're in front of your vanity and Freddie is fluffing your hair to be enormous and curly for the night. Your makeup dark and bold, you sat posed as you admired yourself in the mirror. The bodice was jewel encrusted as promised and the sheer fabric blended into your skin, making you look as if you were naked but the stones. Which happened to be one of your fantasies. The gold glittered across your gleaming skin, you smell of expensive Paris perfume and the air is buzzing about you as you loosen up to prepare to go down the now building crowd.

"Shoulda known ya's still gettin' ready." Alfie says with a sarcastic tone, grinning at you as he sneaks into the room. 

You had everything you wanted for tonight. Everything had fallen exactly into place as it should. Except for one thing. Except for Alfie. He had something come up far away with work that he could not get out of, having been planned long before he had even moved in. It was just poor timing and there wasn't really anything you could do. It was a bummer that one of your best friends wouldn't be able to stay and get a bit crazy with you tonight but you understood. 

"You've got to leave them wanting, cheri." you say in a playful pout, smiling at him, watching him enter the room in the mirror. 

"Well I's wantin' to keep 'em waitin' a bit longer cause I wanted a word with ya." he says, body language still casual, his slightly tilted head and friendly eyes let you know this isn't a bad conversation that's coming. 

You open your mouth to ask Freddie to leave and he interrupts your thoughts.

"I have to get my suit on, you two go at it. If I end up leaving with someone, I'll say Happy Birthday now Gen." he says, kissing your temple, your return it in earnest to his cheek, holding his face as you do so. 

"Danke, darling." you coo at him, patting his face before he left through the secret way out in the closet. "What do you need me for Fie?" you bat your lashes at him, hands in your lap as you turn around on your tufted seat to face him as he sits on the side of your bed, not far from you.

"C'mere I gotta give ya the other present before you get lost out there in that sea of bodies and I can't find ya before I 'ave to leave." he says, patting the bed next to him, you bounce up happily, sitting facing him with a bent leg, wide eyes waiting. 

"Ya got me somefing?" you chuckle. Mimicking his voice as it sounded the same whenever he brought you home something, from leftover tests of new bread to ornate bejeweled bee necklaces. 

"Yeah, little summat. Happy Birthday, Genevieve." he says sweetly, handing you a rectangular box that has been tucked into his jacket. 

"After that bee, you were good on presents far past Chanukah darling." you say with a soft girlish laugh that makes him smile, watching your painted fingertips unwrap the ribbon with precision. 

You look over at him, indulging him with an excited glance before you open the heavy box. Inside is a stunningly decorated dagger. 

His eyes study your face, waiting to remember this expression. Your eyes go wide and still, your lips set in a silent and pouty "o". The dagger was set inside a bright, iridescent sheath. A loud and gorgeous shade of green that shifted as you took it into your hands. Your fingertips run over the subtle filigree in a deep bronzey gold, small intricate lace-like patterns border the smooth green surface. The handle set in the same color of gold, stones set around its base, the grip not too decorated, you knew you'd actually be able to use it and not just look at it, which made it that much better. 

You don't realize you haven't spoken until he breaks the silence. "I coulda gone with one that was covered in jewels, fuckin' gorgeous with more of the little detailin' you got all over everfing in ya fuckin' house." he says with a grin, his eyes still taking in the delicate actions of admiration he loved to see. "But I knew they'd have all 'em little fuckin'... holes 'n cracks..." he moves his hand to exaggerate his point. 

"And it'd be really hard to..." you say you a slow blink, your head nodding subtly in agreement. 

"Clean." you both say at the same time, his head nodding in agreement.

"Yeah," he says softly but enthusiastically, a soft smile appearing under even softer eyes. "I wanted ya to use it, right? Didn't want to get ya somefin' ya'd have to fuss with." he says with a frown, a small shake of his head to elaborate his point. 

"Having one I can use is what I would always prefer with weapons," you say softly, taking it out of its sheath with a slice that hits your ears, making you get goosebumps. "She's remarkable, Alfie, thank you," you say in an almost shy voice, leaning in to place your fingertips gently on his face, kissing his cheek. "You wouldn't have happened to have gotten me something so lovely and grand because you still feel guilty about tonight would you?" you say with a hint of a scold to your tone. You keep your voice quiet since you're sitting so close, your thumb and finger give his freshly manicured beard a slight tug before you move away again. 

You hadn't wanted him to feel guilty as soon as you'd seen him flinch after telling you the news after getting a few glasses of wine into you both. The poor thing thought you'd be so upset you'd hit him. The thought passing your mind again makes you smile and release of a huff of a laugh, the way you looked at him confusing him slightly. If it'd been anything but work yes you would've been upset, but thankfully for you both, you were reasonable when you felt it warranted. 

"Now 'at..." he points to the dagger you're now sliding into your thigh holster. "Been some time in the makin' so it was just a happy coincidence."

In the making? You wondered, running your fingers over the delicate detailing, you realize the color is similar to that of his snake ring you were so fond of.

"Did you have this made, Alfie?" you ask quietly, your head tilted, brow furrowed just slightly, your eyes not leaving the dagger.

"Aye. Might've." he says with a nod, the corner of his mouth pulled back as your eyes swoop up to meet his. 

"This is...you designed this? This is customized?" your chin pushes into your prominent chest, your hand moving to touch his arm in your excitement involuntarily.

"Yeah." he nods, being very humble about it. "Couldn't very well get you somefin 'at someone else has, could I?" he says, with a minor shake of his head, your shoulders slump and your lip pouts at the sentiment. You needed to start planning for his birthday now. "Gotta get someone unique like you somefin' just the same." he says in a casual way that makes it even more charming somehow. Alright, you needed to start planning for his birthday yesterday.

"Alfie." you say in a whine that makes his eyebrows raise in surprise. You move to kiss his cheek again, but you know that's not enough. "Why'd you have to go give this to me after I've done my makeup?" you say softly with a laugh, moving to sit in his lap facing him. The surprise moves over his face as his wide eyes move over your bodice and sleek slit velvet skirt, the layer beneath the huge princess bottom to your gown which was removable. You weren't about to try to get pissed in a huge ball gown and hurt yourself again. "I could've given such a gift a proper thanks in the moment instead of later." You kiss him anyway. One single peck, a smooch with the appropriate noise connected. "Thank you." Another peck. 

"Yer very welcome, sweetheart." he manages to get out. 

"You have the most gorgeous eye for beautiful things love, I swear." you say enthusiastically. "Designing a whole piece...a cake? Look at you, Solomons." you praise his stunning efforts. "Perhaps since you have such a fine eye, I might drag you to Paris with me." you say sweetly, your head tilted as you speak in a warm tone that when added on top of your fingers in his hair, moving as you spoke, making his eyes close. 

"Wouldn't 'ave to drag me." he says in a chuckle.

"Your commentary on the fashion alone would be worth the trip, I'm certain." you say with a soft laugh. 

"Probably get us kicked out of ya posh parties with my fuckin' opinions." his mouth continues its effortless charming smile.

"That's almost entirely the point, darling," you speak through a chuckle, watching him smile at your acceptance and even welcoming of his behaviors that most complained about. "It'd be so interesting to see it through your eyes since we have similar tastes but different backgrounds."

"I was thinkin' much the same fing 'bout you when I went last." he admits, his eyes opening to find your expression soft, your fingers still fidgeting with his appearance. "Bet there are all sorts of fuckin' things I'd never think to do there that you'd know about all about, eh?" he inquires sincerely. The look in his eyes makes you actually want to throw him in a suitcase and take him to Paris with you in fact and not fantasy. 

"You are so thoughtful and sentimental to act like such a bastard, you know that?" you say with your noses almost touching, grinning down at him before you planted another kiss to his cheek. Your fingers fussed with the wild swirl of hair that always threatened to ruin his slicked-back hairstyle at the top of his head. Your shoulders shook as you silently laughed, leaning back, fingers still running over his hair and beard as he watched you with half-lidded eyes you didn't notice. His forearms rested on your thighs, hands lying still against your hips. 

"Oh I fuckin' know." he nods, bottom lip pouted out in a matter of fact tone.   
"Just can't act right, can he?" you say with a sweet smile, holding his face in your hands. 

"Impossible." he agrees, you feel the tension in his cheeks from holding back a smile. 

"Just like me." you blurt out with a laugh.

"Just like you." he agrees, corners of his eyes crinkling as his laugh mirror yours, you feel his hands stir against your skin.

"I have to admit though, being the selfish person I am I rather like that you don't show that side of you to everyone," you say with a shake of your head, a light kiss to his forehead before you twirl off of him in your stocking covered feet. "Knowing the man under the mask and all that." you say being playfully dramatic while you bend over the vanity, ring finger checking the edges of your lipstick for smudges, removing an invisible mask from your face while you look at his reflection in the mirror. He rises and leans on the same surface you do. 

"I could say the same for you, ya know." he says, his hands crossed, held together in front of his hips as his face turned toward you. 

"Yes except I occasionally seem like I have my shit together in public and instead of being thoughtful and sweet I'm moody and ever crasser behind closed doors." you say in an annoyed way, it quickly giving way to a laugh at yourself, your head lowering as your shoulders move before you shake your big wild hair back from your face. 

"Well that ain't wrong but you're a lot kinder than you give yourself credit for. Ya bein' hard on yerself for no reason, again." his tone isn't exactly scolding, more a hesitant praise. 

"It's to make up for all the awful things I do." you lean back and look over at him, shrugging.

He lets out a huff of a laugh, "'Fraid I can't relate." he says sarcastically with a shake of his head.

"But I can't rightly have one without the other, can I?" you say defending yourself to only your reflection. "You have to be sad to remember how good being happy feels. You have to go through the pain to appreciate the pleasure." you sigh, turning and fluffing your mane with your fingers. "I suppose it's important to remember such things on a night like this."

"A night set aside to indulge in sin?" he says with a laugh. 

"I meant my birthday." you match his laugh. "I thought this one might feel different but..." you give a short shake of your head and a dismissive shrug. 

"Why would it feel different?" he asks with a furrowed brow. 

You frown at him in an exagerated way. "You know better than to ask about a lady's age." your express back to warm. 

"Well ya turnin' 34 ain't ya?" he tilts his head, that's the age on the paperwork he'd seen of yours. 

"That is what is under Genevieve Durand's name." you say with a sneaky grin.

"Oi, ya been lyin' on that as well? Don't go tellin' be you're too young and I'm gonna feel like a dirty old man because I thought you didn't look no 34." he says with a nervous chuckle, only half joking. 

You hold your knees and laugh for a moment before moving over to a box on a far table in the room. "No, no dear." you pause to let your laugh die naturally, taking a breath afterward. "I put that I was older so I might be taken more seriously. I've always had this sort of roundness to my face that helps me look younger." you elaborate. "I'll be turning thirty." you say quietly after setting the box down next to him where he leans on the vanity, you lean in and say the words like they're dirty and he erupts into laughter. You let the smile spread across your face quickly as you relish his reaction to your foolishness.

"Well that's more than alright, innit?" he continues to laugh, his hand on his stomach. 

"But that doesn't mean you aren't a dirty old man just the same." you snark back.

"Not after tonight, sweetheart." he says in a deep voice, playful and growling and he grabs you and pulls you to him as you're still laughing. "After tonight we'll just be two ancient fucks, won't we?" he says in a louder voice, drawing the smile to your lips as his head moves animatedly, looming over yours. "Too bad we didn't have the chance for me to make you call me a dirty old man when I's inside you while ya was still a young, bouncy thing, eh?" he says in such a sleazy way, one hand giving the exposed top of one of your breasts a small smack. "Too bad I'll just have to give it to ya rough and dirty like the grown woman ya are now, yeah?" he nips at your lips and gives your bum a smack, triggering you to let out a laugh genuine and loud enough to satisfy his want to take any hint of sadness from your eyes. 

"You're crude and disgusting and I love it." you manage to say with a smile despite your bitten lip blooming across your face. "Lucky you're so funny," you say in a scoff of a laugh, your fingertips giving his cheek the lightest of smacks. "You've helped me realize how trivial of a thing it is to worry about. " you peck his lips again, he's caught off guard but gives you a smug smile anyway. 

"I know 'at." he says obviously. "'At's why I do it." he says with a rumbling chuckle, paused for a moment with the first kiss of the night he'd initiated. You return it, lingering for a moment with no movement and you let out a small grunt. 

"Those suggestive words sure didn't help me though." you say with a pout as you pull away before one side of your mouth draws back into a smile. Patting the tops of his hands on your lower back so he releases you. 

"Ay well. You's standing too close to the source of the charm wunnit ya?" he gives you a smile that backs up his words. 

"I have a speech to give and party to host, sir. I can't very well carry out those roles while under the influence of it," you say in an exaggerated way, primping yourself before reaching down to the box in front of you. "I must be nervous, I've only had wine and you've gone and made me blush." you admit with a slight hunch, a small wrinkle of your nose in amusement of yourself. 

His soft expression stays as he watches you open the box. 

Your tiara and matching jewels await you inside the velvet lining. Big faceted rubies in dainty little gold wire settings, decorated with pearls and stones in the lace pattern sit atop a solid gold band. You put on the matching hanging earrings, a single ruby each, swinging gently by one of his favorite places to kiss on your neck. 

"I need your help, cheri." you lilt, holding the necklace out to him, as you gently place it into his large hands. "My hair is huge, I'll hold what I can." you say, holding up the back of it, his arms maneuvering around yours to clasp the chain of the single rowed rubies, all delicately framed just the same as the rest, as his hands move to settle your hair where he'd disturbed it, moving away and lingering on your upper arms a moment as he notices how your lips match the stones. Brilliant, his inner voice whispers. "This one as well, make sure it's even, Alfie." you say his name with that pleading whine he loves when you want something from him. He stands behind you, you slightly squatted, he places the tiny combed ends of the tiara in your hair, his broad, ringed fingers following your slender, bejeweled one's suggestions as to the piece's placement. You let out a high pitched hum of excitement as you turn to look in the mirror. 

"Ya look like some sort of sexy lion princess, luv." he says in a fast-paced way, showing enthusiasm for the compliment and comparison he thought he wouldn't ever get to make unless he did right now. "Granted, I don't know much about the royal hierarchy of lions, yeah. But I figure you're about to be announced the new queen in this getup, with ya big bloomin' skirt." he pumps his arms out to his sides to emphasize how big your dress bottom was. 

"I like the skirt." you say with a light-hearted laugh. 

"Now I dinnit say I dinnit like it now, did I? I think it's very grand. It suits you." he says supportively. "I meant the look more suits a queen than a princess. Thought the comparison to be important for the easin' of ya nerves tonight." his hands squeeze your shoulders, backing up the warm tone and praises he gave. 

"Are you decent? Can I come in?" you hear a knock and Freddie's voice.

"We are!" you lilt out in a sweet smile, leftover from Alfie's kind words. You turn to him for a moment before Freddie makes his way in. "Your sweet talk always help ease my nerves, darling." you coo at him, your hands placed lightly on his chest, a fleeting but sincere glance shared before you make your way to Freddie.

Alfie stands back and watches Freddie praise and fuss while he attaches the bottom of the dress. "Well at least you're not a smudged mess and you've got your jewels on." he says, lightly touching and adjusting bits of you. 

"We behaved ourselves. We worked too long and hard on this to go and ruin it just for some cock." you say with a girlish laugh. "No offense, Alfie, dear." you say with a charming smile over your shoulder at him. He moves closer to you.

"None taken." he says, kissing your cheek before he departs. "I'm gonna go and get me a good spot to watching this entrance I've heard you practicing all week." he says quietly, still leaned in closely, pulling away with a grin. 

"Try to find me before you leave again darling." you say as he pulls open the door. "You can tell me how wonderful I was." you laugh that big charming, hand to chest laugh that he'd honestly wondered whether it was witchcraft or not as he felt spellbound when you'd direct it at him solely.   
\--------  
He was certainly glad he was tucked away on the balcony of the second floor, overlooking the stairs as you walked down. In your room you'd look like you were overdone, but as you descended above all the other bodies, shining and bright like yours in their excessiveness you were clearly the glazed cherry, sitting delicious and appealing on top of the sundae that was this crowd.

Decadence was the theme you'd said, and the decor certainly matched. Flowers and garlands and centerpieces almost as tall as him perched on fine fabrics covering tables full of food and spirits. Music played from the ballroom, a whole band with horns and percussion he was sure would make you dance all night, leaving you with nubs where your feet were by morning. 

He could certainly tell you were playing up your French accent as you spoke, but suspected no one else would notice. You raised a toast to decadence. You instructed this was a place to let go, among friends as there was an order for no fighting or fuckery. You spoke of saint's with past's and sinner's with future's as you leave with a flourish of your sparkling gown and merge into the crowd. 

He sees Claire, severe and dark but polished, whisper into your ear. Your eyes shoot up to him immediately, you stop in the crowd of people to give him a tiny wave. He returns it with a nod of his head a smile you could feel from the floor. You give him and him alone the remnants of the pants removing charm that you'd summoned to enchant the crowd as you nod back and spin around gracefully to give your attention to everyone else in the room.   
\-----  
"I just needed to ask you something dear, you didn't have to drag me all the way back 'ere." he says before getting pushed into the door, your lips finding his. 

He'd sought you out like you'd asked, you in your not sober state had reverted to your need for him, leftover from earlier in the night, still needing to be answered. You knew you weren't going to have sex with him right now, he had to leave, but you'd be damned if you weren't going to give you both something for the road.

"What ya need handsome?" you coo at him, pulling your lips from his, your arms still around his neck. 

"I was going to ask you to dance since it was yer birthday 'n all." he says defensively.

Your mouth drops open. "You were?" your voice almost at a whine. "You're not now?" you pout, the natural blush of your lips darkened by your forceful kisses, evidence of your drinking and talking having already worn away your lipstick. "But I would love to do that." you pout. 

"Well we still can luv." he says with a laugh, holding your hips as you let go of him. "Ya just pulled me in here before I could ask ya."

"Right." you say with a nod and a cheeky grin at your forgetfulness. "Because I've been drinking and I wanted to kiss your face." you laugh and give him another less aggressive kiss and he shakes his head at you. 

"You might be too drunk to slow dance with, dear." he laughs, his hand moving some stray curls back into place at your big doe eyes batted up at him. 

"Am not!" you protest, looking away from him. "It's a slow dance how can I fuck that up?" you ask, wondering if you should be offended. 

"I's wondering if ya could behave yourself out there." he says smugly, you can tell his natural instinct is to reach out to tease but he resists. 

"Rude." you say with a pout and stern nod. "To think I couldn't behave myself." you roll your eyes and let out an offended scoff, you turn your hip to move away, smoothly running your hand down and up the crotch of his pants before dipping out of the room quickly as he took one step for you and stopped to laugh, knowing if he ran after you it'd look suspicious.

What was he going to do with a wild woman who wouldn't listen like you? He waits for it, expects it, that familiar heat of flickering anger that would rise to his face at such a childishly disobedient action at his expense. But he couldn't find it, it never came. All that was left sitting on his face a lazy smile left from sucking his teeth at you as you scurried away.   
\-----  
"I thought you said you'd behave yourself." he whispers, looking at you in a subtly scolding way, seeming odd with your arms wrapped around each other like they were. Your hands were held together, your head on his chest as you'd kept giggling at his comparisons of some of the actresses to poodles and other various domesticated dogs to match their appearance. 

"I'm only laughing at your jokes." you say defensively, your head shaking slightly. 

"Ya know I 'on't care but I'm only lookin' out for what sober Gen would want." he says with laughter in his tone. 

"Women giggle when they're drunk and in the arms of charming, handsome men." you say with an adorably angry pout.

He pauses for a moment, eyes looking around before he nods. "Didn't think of it in such a way."

"Can't believe I'm the one telling you to not be paranoid." you snort, lifting your head. 

"Well I gotta so you can have ya fun tonight dunnit I?" he says in a warm way. 

"I didn't ask you to make any sort of sacrifices on my behalf, did I?" you say in a sassy retort. 

"No, ya don't even have to ask me to do it anymore. Ya got me fuckin' trained dunnit ya?" he says with a laugh, looking down at you, finding the smile on your face he'd hoped he'd leave you with. He certainly didn't want to end on a low note on your birthday. Not with him already havin' to leave early. 

"All this looking out for me and I haven't even had to pay you." you say with a laugh that shakes your shoulders, still huffed out softly between the two of you in the buzzy, crowded ballroom. 

"Just let me keep lookin' at ya babes and I'll keep lookin' out while I'm at it, eh?" that same cocky tone and shake of his head as his eyes slowly blinked in his self-amusement. 

"Who's talkin' about misbehavin' now?" you say with a sly wink, sending a lingering heat up his neck at what he felt was a bold action towards him. This was how he wanted to leave you, just like you'd said, wanting more.   
\--  
Tommy stands, smoking by a stair banister, watching the dance floor. Arthur staggers up to his side, snorting and rubbing his nose, pushing his back off his face.

"What'd I miss?" he gruffly asks.

"Just more of the same." he says flatly, blinking slowly and looking back to you and Alfie. He wasn't sure how obvious it was to anyone else who didn't know both of you well, but he could swear the light was catching off the both of your eyes as you looked at each other, eyes glancing at lips just a little too often, a little too long to mean nothing. "Have you ever seen Solomons dance before Arthur?" he asks, the tone of his interest only slightly peaked. 

Arthur doesn't pay much mind the question, looking at the other side of the room with a gleam of trouble in his eyes,. "I reckon not, yeah?" he says fast, instinctually, his brow furrows and he turns just a little too quickly to Thomas "Nah, I ain't ever seen him dance." he clarifies, rubbing his nose again and stalking off just as quickly as he'd arrived. 

Tommy's eyes follow him across the floor, a sigh leaving him as they find their way back to the spinning pair of you and Alfie. "I've not seen it before either." he says very quietly to himself, a delayed response he felt was still warranted to help his brain dissect every exchange between the two of you.   
\--------  
At this point in the night you were drunk. No denying that, you think the other drugs are out of your system but the effects of the alcohol are staying strong. But the great thing about being drunk, is that you sometimes don't know how drunk you are, and you just enjoy yourself. This was where you found yourself. The lull before your second wind. 

You're sitting back on a fainting couch, cooling yourself with an elaborately decorated hand fan. Your back is reasted against the tall side of the back of the couch, your body slouched and your legs hanging loose. Freddie is sitting next to you, your head on his shoulder, side by side. 

Your handruns up and down the stripe of black satin that goes up and down the side of the leg of Freddie's suit. 

"Did I tell you how much I love this suit Fred?" you ask earnestly.

"About ten times now yes." he says with a sigh.

"Mmm." is your response with a nod. Your fingers keep tracing the lines in the design of the fabric across his thigh. 

You let out a small chuckle. "I like the way the fabric feels. Is it like this on the inside as well?" your eyes still fixated on his leg. 

"Silk lined."

"Oh fuck I bet that feels wonderful. This corset is fucking killing me." you whine, wiggling your torso.

"Well I think it looks absolutely gorgeous."

"Is pretty..." you mumble. "Just not comfortable for all night."

"Then change you crying child." he huffs out a laugh. 

"Into what? I don't have another dress I planned to wear."

"What a fucking dilemma. May God herself striek you down if you wear the same thing twice. And when people are too drunk to even notice."

"Shut up." you grumble. Your fingers still running up and down his thigh.

"Either grab it or don't sweetie." he says with a laugh. "If i didn't know you I'd say you were trying to fuck me, Gen." he laughs, patting your hand. 

"Don't be silly. Don't want you...just the suit." you giggle.

"Oh, it's not me ya want in but the suit?" he laughs, throwing his head back.

"Mmm Hmm." you nod and blink slowly. 

"Well..." he pauses, hand touching the velvet of your skirt. "Why don't you then? You wear this and I wear this." he says pinching the fabric.

"I don't think you got the tits to fill this out Fred." you laugh, biting your tongue. 

"I'm sure there are some large melons around here somewhere...I can improvise," he says convincingly enough for you not sober mind to agree.

"You wanna?" you lilt, eyes meeting his.

"You wanna?" he repeats, tilting his he  
You grin like a child and nod enthusiatically. 

"Well, fuckin' come on then!" he declares, trying to stand and falling back into the chair. 

You snort a laugh at him, " Little drunk." you coo.

"You get the fuck up then Gen. Although you have the advantage of having uppers in your system." he says with a roll of his eyes. 

You rise slowly, and turn to give him your hands to him to help him up. "Gotta do it slow."

"Never been good at slow." he says with a smug smile.

"Me neither...let's do this then." you say with a nod, taking off your heels.   
\---  
You and Freddie have attracted a crowd, him in your dress, lipstick and all. YOu in his suit, barely buttoned with nothing underneath the jacket, and still wearing your heels. Freddie would've taken them if they'd fit him, but they were far too small. 

Your heads are thrown back, laughing and being eyeballed and loving it, a flute of champagne from the fountain in your hand as you scan the room. Your eyes land on a rather gorgeous girl, standing with a mysterious look on her face, glass of wine in her hand. 

"Fred....don't wait up on me...k?" you give him a devilish smile.

"Oh is she back at it?" he quirks an eyebrow. "Going to cheat on your big Russian bear, are you?" 

"Not cheating." you defend yourself, your words almost slurring. 

"Sure...sure Gen. You go have your fun while your husbands away on business ya slag." he snickers. You reach back and smack his arm a few times.

"No interest in husbands." you mumble, your eyes turning back to the girl who was now looking at you. "More interested in wives tonight." you give him a wink.

"Oh that's the loop hole is it?" he laughs and holds his stomach. "What you have to tell yourself Casanova." 

You ignore him, your hand pushing against his face before you walk away. 

You've set your face for seduction, slightly pouted lips, intense eyes, swaying hips. 

"Hello, luv." you purr at her, lokoing her up and down. She smirks, showing you the mutual understanding of what was happening.

"Hello Miss Durand." she purrs back. 

"Oh, please, darling call me Genevieve. No need for such...formalities between us..."

"Jacklyn." she says, blinking slowly and smiling as she raised the glass to her lips. 

"Mmmm. Jacklyn. Love the way that...rolls off my tongue." you look at her lips as you speak, licking yours before returning your eyes to hers. 

"I happen to be rather fond of the sound of your name coming out of my mouth as well." she gives you a flirtatious grin. 

"Oh do you?" you bat your lashes, biting your lip and obviously checking her out. Her blonde hair fell past her shoulders, soft and drawing your attention to two perky tits, poised in a sweetheart neckline dress. They sat tantalizing above the gathered waist, the shape loose and flowing down to her ankles in a breezy fabric. "I'm sure there are ways I could get you to say it that I'd love as well." you coo at her, taking another drink of champagne.

"I'm sure there are. Ways that involved me rolling off your tongue as well?" she quirks an eyebrow and you hum with content at the words. 

You lean in closer to her, wrapping your arm around her waist, being taller than her you look down at her feminine and sweet face. Two rose petals for lips and blue diamonds for eyes. 

"Since it seems I'm the one wearing the more masculine attire of us two...how about I take you down that hallway..." you nod your head to a dimly lit back hallway, knowing no one would bother you there. "And we let these roles play out as they may." you stare into her eyes, they don't stray from yours. You can feel breath across your lips, your noses just brushing against each other. 

"Oh I would like that very much, Genevieve." she scrunches her nose in a naughty smile.

You move your face slowly closer, tilting at the last moment before kissing her, your lips almost dragging across her cheek as you push back her hair to expose her neck and ears. 

"C'mon then Jacklyn, let's find out what you taste like." you whisper into her ear. You feel her shiver in your arms and you feel that ache start to throb between your legs. 

You escort her like a gentleman to one of the back corridors, shutting the door behind you, clicking it shut. Her face is turned away from yours, about to speak when you cut her off. Pushing her slowly against a wall, pressing your body weight against hers. 

"You look absolutely delicious, luv." you rasp in her ear, planting your lips there for a single kiss. Your hand moves from her waist, up her ribs, pawing over her breast before lightly caressing up her neck to her hair. 

"I could say the same for you."

"Let's both find out then shall we?" you whisper as you hover over her lips, letting them tremble before you finally kissed them. She moves fast, feeling as needy as you did. A few rounds of indulgent moans, your hands in her hair, holding her arms over her head as you kissed and sucked your way down to her chest. You yank the top of her dress down, moaning at the bounce of her much smaller than yours, chest. You take each into your mouth with a moan, her's rising louder as you switch to the second one, tongue swirling and flicking and teeth pinching ever so slightly to make her gasp. 

Your hand moves down her hip, slowly gathering the fabric of the dress in your hands, exposing her thigh. You slip your hand under and to her satin covered lips. "Mmmph," you grunt with need. "You've soaked through these lovely little.." you lift her dress with both hands, leaving her a chest heaving and gulping mess against the wall, leaving her arms up again it even though you weren't holding them up anymore. You let out a wicked deep, dark laugh. "...black satin pants of yours dear." Your eyes shoot back up to her, looking at her from under your lashes. "Let me take those off for you." you coo, kneeling before her. She bites her lip and moans again as your fingers pull the pretty, ruined fabric down her soft, milky thighs. She steps out of them without being told to do so. 

You start at her knee, planting kisses up to her hip bones. You groan as you make your kisses wetter, moving down into the crease between her lips and thigh. She gasps when you hook your leg over her shoulder, holding onto the wall for support.

"Genevieve." you hear her whisper, a call of anticipation. 

"That's a good girl Jacklyn." You run your tongue up and down the creases on both sides of her sex. "Keep saying it luv." you purr before using your fingers to trace down her silken wetness, your fingers sliding without any resistanc between her swollen pink lips. 

You dive in with your tongue first, a slow lap against her swollen bud. She falls apart under the actions, gasping your name again. "Good girl." you moan as your fingers move to tease her tensing opening. You slide one finger in, sucking at her clit, making her release a whimpering moan. You add two and her knees knock slightly, you hold her thigh on your shoulder for a moment, kneading it as you continued your slow build, fingers slowly and deeply fucking her as you slowly sucked away at her. Another moan of your name, you moan against her clit and her thighs tense. 

You begin to curl your fingers inside her, knowing expertly where to go and she lets out a guttural moan at the action. You hum against her, rubbing your face into her folds, repeating the action over and over as she called your name again and again, coming around your fingers as you lapped away at her sweet sex as she tensed against you. 

You leave her gasping, against that wall. A last sloppy and passionate kiss, letting her taste herself on your lips. 

"See? Delicious." you give her a cheeky growl. A slap to the bum to bring her back down to reality as you lean away, biting your lip. "It's been a pleasure my darling Jacklyn." you say with a smug smile, adjusting your suit jacket. "But I must get back to the party, seeing as it is for me, after all." you shrug your shoulders and grin, her breathing still near a pant as she gulps and nods. "But we had fun..." you coo at her one last time, pushing her hair out of her face and kissing her gently this time. "Didn't we?" you wrinkle your nose at her. 

"Yes." she nods and lets out a satisfied but distracted laugh. 

"See you 'round luv." you give her a wink and head out of the hallway, leaving the door cracked to give her time to recover, chuckling to yourself as you make your way back to the champagne fountain. 

\---  
"You shouldn't have done that last bump." Freddie says, in lipstick and your dress still. 

"Oh I'm fine! Everything's wonderful dear, don't worry about it!" you smile widely. "You look lovely, I look lovely, Jacklyn looked AND tasted lovely." you giggle and kick your feet in the fountain. 

"Do you plan on being like this until you absolutely pass out?" he rolls his eyes.

"It's my birthday! Fuck off Fred!" you say with a laugh, falling back onto the stone benched edge of the fountain. "I've been so god damned uptight. Working my fucking arse off all year and I deserve to get out of my fucking mind." you declare, sitting up and waving your arms in the air.

"Not saying you don't, you just haven't done snow in a while, dear you might want to dial it back a bit, hmmm?"

"I took it like an hour ago Freddie it's probably not even in my system anymore." you say chewing the varnish off your fingernails. 

"Yeah...sure Gen." he nods, narrowing his eyes at you. 

"Jesus Christ it's hot out here isn't it?" you whine.

"It is summer and you are high." he points out, his hand moving as if he were presenting the idea. 

"This fabric is so damn hot." you start fussing the buttons on the coat, undoing them.

"So we're getting naked now are we?" he asks, crossing his arms. "You better not ruin that fucking suit, Genevieve."

"I'M NOT! I WON'T!" you cry out, hands working to unbutton the pants. 

"I didn't mean take it off Gen. Fuck's sake." he groans, trying to grab you by the arms as you jump off the fountain.

"Are all men's' fabrics this heavy? This hot? How can you stand this?" you speak fast, jerking the coat off your body gracelessly. "WHAT SORT OF OPPRESSION IS THIS?" you shout, throwing the coat at Freddie. 

"What the fuck are you on about you absolute ninny." he scolds. 

"THIS!" you move your hands to the trousers. "These...PANTS! These..this..." you mumble, taking off the pants and he lets out a loud groan. You lie on the ground and jerk them off your legs, throwing your heels into the fountain. You scramble up and throw the pants at Freddie as well. "I can't BREATHE in that...that...SHROUD OF MASCULINE OPPRESSION!" you shout, moving down the lane of your garden. 

"Gen you fucking nutter, get back here."

"NO! I SHANT!" you shout, turning and walking backward, he's surprised you don't trip. "Clothes...PSH! Who needs 'em? NOT ME!" you declare, taking off your knickers and throwing them at him as well. Seeing as it's the only thing left on your body, the dagger in your thigh holster catches your attention. 

Freddie notices you still. "Gen...you alright?" He sees your shoulders shake. 

"He...he got this for me Freds." he sees your bottom lip quiver lip an upset child's. "He...Freds he..." he sees you start to cry. 

"Oh fucks sake you toddler!" you groan, trying to walk towards you. 

"NO!" you shout, pushing him away. "I don't need YOU Freddie." your hand is on the daggers handle, your chest bouncing with your ragged breaths. "I need..." you look up and into his eyes, and it's as if you aren't high as a fucking kite anymore. "I need Alfie," you whisper. "And he's not here. On my birthday..." you start to sob. "He's not here." you put your face in your hands. 

"Oh..." he sighs and tries to touch you again, hands on your shoulders. "You won't remember a fucking bit of this, so get it out Genevieve. Least I can do is try to help you act on what you really want when you're sober again." he sighs. The babysitting portion of the evening was well underway he saw. 

"I really like him Freds." you sob into your hands. 

"I know you do Gen. C'mere poor little bird." he shushes you.

"Why'd it have to be him?" you cry out, face towards the sky, tears running down your cheeks. "What's wrong with me?" your shoulders shake, he uses the sleeve of his jacket to wipe your snotty nose. 

"I can tell you but you don't want to hear it."

"What? Tell me. I've never...I don't know..." your breathing hitches and you can't speak clearly. "He makes me slow down and feel things and I can't stand it. Like an elephant's on my chest. Like a colony of bees buzzing my guts!" you say breathlessly.

"That's because I don't know that you've ever felt this way before have you?"

Your eyes well up again and you start to loudly cry.

"I know dear. It's confusing, isn't it? Poor thing." he pushes your hair back from your face. "I've never seen you like this over a man."

"I've NEVER BEEN LIKE THIS OVER ONE!" you shout, pushing him away. "What's wrong with me?" your eyes are wild and your hands pull at your hair.

"You're in love Genevieve, that's what's wrong." he plainly states. You freeze, taking in a shakey, noisy, wet inhale. He regrets saying it as he sees the terror in your eyes. "It's okay! I'd bet money he loves you as well!" he tries to comfort you but this was the exact thing he shouldn't have said.

"NO!" you cry out again, fists and feet pounding and stomping. "I can't love him! I can't love anyone! I'm BROKEN!" you throw a tantrum and you do not care your heart felt like ti was breaking. How could Freddie make you think something like this? How dare he plant this in your head. Telling you how you felt. How Alfie felt. What did he fucking know?

"I know you don't think you can and I know it scares the shit out of you but don't you feel it? When he looks at you? Do you know what I would GIVE to have someone look at me the way he looks at you?!" he shouts, the liquor getting the best of his emotions. 

"This isn't fucking about YOU Freddie!" you scream and run down the lane, naked as the day you born, disappearing into the garden somewhere, not to be seen for the duration of the night. 

\-------  
He walks into the lobby in the cold first light of morning. The house is absolutely silent. One of the maids, looking a bit tired informs him she hadn't seen you in hours when asked about your whereabouts. He nods and thumbs his nose, cane poking bodies to elicit groans as he made his way past people, passed out in big noisy stomps. He sees lots of known faces, a Shebly or three, politicians, and actresses, people from all walks, now on the level together. 

His hed quirks, brows furrowing as he see's Freddie...but he's in your dress. "HA!" he laughs out loud with amusement. "Seems you did have a good time, Gen." he grins to himself. 

"Right. Right. Sorry, mate. Out the way, now. No shame, some of you." he grunts as he makes his way into the garden. He finds an exhausted Claire, sitting on the edge of the fountain.

"Have you seen Gen about?" she asks, as he approaches her. 

"No, mate just everybody else in London."

"You know where her lily pond is?" she asks, her eyes narrowing, not sure of the answer.

He makes a confused face, shaking his head.

She chuckles and nods slowly, "Take that as a no." she throws back the last of the champagne in her glass. "Go down the path towards the pond, on the right, there's a barely noticeable footpath through the hedges, just follow that right to it, it's not very far off the path, just hidden from sight." she gestures with her hand in the direction of the path, sighing. "She should be in there. I've got to get these people up and out of here, so could you see to her for me? If that's not too much to ask of you." she shrugs, showing he had the option to say no. "It's just the poor house staff is stretched thin this morning." she stretches her legs.

"Nah, you got your hands full, dunnit ya?" he says, heading off in the direction she pointed.

"The tea in her room hasn't been there long, just toss her in bed for me, please," she says with a chuckle as she stands and brushes her pants off, heading back into the house. "She'll be ungrateful no matter what you do in her state so don't bother being gentle." she says with a laugh.   
\---------  
He finds the directions sufficient and comes across a break in the hedges he had not noticed before, just as predicted there's a small grassy patch with a small lily pond, lily pads, and flowers across it. The space was covered with a mix of hedges and trees, blocked from unsuspicious eyes. He can see why you would choose to slink away here.

You're sleeping in the water, completely naked. All except for the tiara in your hair, your jewels and the dagger he'd given you tight in your thigh holster. 

He shakes his head and tsks at you. Tommy told him to expect you to be in rough shape but passed out in a pond wasn't what he was expecting.   
Your top half is out of the water, sleeping on your side on the grass, using your arm as a pillow, your hair damp and blanketed out around your upper body. One a solid poke to your shoulder with his cane, and when that doesn't rouse you he sighs and lays his cane on the ground hiking up his pants to sit in front of you by the water. He uses the arm farthest from you to move your shoulder. 

"Gen." he says with no inflection. "Ya sleeping in all day now, luv? C'mon, up." he says with no anger in his voice, moving the hair off of your face. 

With the touch of your face you stir, "There she is now." he says patronizingly. "You playing sleeping siren? Or ya laying like Ophelia? Because your paleness leads me to believe the latter." your face is soft for just a moment, barely noticeable before it screws up and you groan. "Yeah, ya hit it a bit too hard, dinnit ya sweetheart?" he shakes his head as you roll onto your stomach. He gives your bum one solid thwack of his cane. You laugh and it immediately turns to another groan as it hurts. 

You flop your head to the side, looking over at him as you move your hair out of your face. "Don't make me laugh just help me, I think I may be dead." you sincerely plea.

"You look a little rough around the edges this morning, dear," he says rising from the ground. "You was born at night I recall you sayin' so it is in fact still your birth day so I 'ave to be nice to ya still don't I?" he picks you up from beneath your arms, you push yourself up the rest of the way with your legs. Your limbs aren't the most cooperative and he chuckles at you as you go knock-kneed for a moment. "Let's get ya up ya hellion." he teases.

"Shuddup." you murmur as he sighs at you again. He wraps his coat around you, buttoning it up and holding the side of your head to make sure you were alright. 

Once you reach the house, still littered with people in the floor he lifts you without announcing it beforehand, making your dizzy as you hold on to him and your head spins. 

"Those newly born foal knees aren't going to carry you past all these sinners, now are they luv?" he asks rhetorically, you rest your head on his shoulder and give in. Next thing you know you're in bed. You're still very tired and you only remember how nice and cold the pillow was against your face before you were fast asleep again. 

While you were out and Alfie was left unattended by the maids, he dries you off after tossing his coat in the floor, now wet. You groan and pout, holding your head as he does this. He pulls the covers up over you, having tied your hair back haphazardly in his lack of skill and experience doing such a thing, and pulls your curtains shut. He lights a candle by your bed, checking your forehead to make sure you weren't warm. He finds a maid scurrying down the hallway outside of your wing. She says she'll send in Aggie in as soon as she can find her. He returns to your side.

"Still livin', mate?" he asks, sitting on the bed, propped up with pillows against the headboard, having grabbed a book off your shelf and moved a cup of tea to the nightstand for himself. 

You respond in groans and grunts, pulling the covers tightly as you roll away from him.

He pats your hip and picks up his book. "Ya Aggie will be in shortly, I'll be here in the meantime. Gotta watch ya, can't have ya goin' and dyin' on your birthday now can I?" 

Your feet rub against each other but otherwise, he gets no response.   
\---  
Aggie drags Claire roughly down the hall towards your room, lit with the bright light of the afternoon.

"I have important shit to do Aggie! What is it that's so important?" she says quietly, but hastily as she jogs behind the shuffling woman.

"Look at them, dear," she whispers, pulling her into the doorway of your room. "I just found them like this."

Claire squints, seeing he's snoring, face looking towards you, propped up on a big pile of pillows, book resting on his stomach, one hand on it still. She see's you, on your stomach, face also looking towards him, sound asleep, little pouty lips murmuring, your arm bent, hand resting near your face. In it rests his, his arm extended out towards you. At some point, one or even both of you had decided to do this. She assumed how terribly hungover you were, she knew you craved comfort when you felt physically bad, you just rarely let yourself have it. But now you had access to it and perhaps it was just the state you were in. 

That had to be it, Claire thought. The weakened state she was in must've caused such a thing to happen.

Aggie's eyes are hearts, her breath hitches and her hand clutches her necklace. "Couldn't you just die?" she sighs.

"Oui. I could." Claire responds flatly. Her eyes wide and calculating from what this could be forthcoming to. She as always tries to cover all possibilities from nothing to everything.


	34. What Are You Afraid Of?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song for the chapter is What Are You Afraid Of? by The Family Rain.

It had been a gloomy and rainy day and the night seemed as if it would be going much the same way, seeing the light fading from the sky as you're driven towards London.

You'd had a call from one of the shop owners about equipment malfunctioning and needing it dealt with as soon as possible seeing as it would make it impossible to open the next day. So, you've taken one of Alfie's men with you, a rather large man named Charles. It seems you have to have backup whenever you go anywhere now, just a part of being a gangster Alfie had said and you'd reluctantly agreed, knowing he was right. You don't think he would've let you go at all if you didn't take someone with you, it wasn't worth the fight. You leave him with a smile, saying you should be back soon and to save you a drink. 

Charles had been so very polite, opening doors and calling you Miss. You talk to him on the way to London, warming him up to get some bits of information out of him. He'd let slip somewhere between the river and the destination that Alfie had told him the consequences of you getting hurt would be answered in Charles's flesh. If you died, he'd kill him twice, he'd said. This makes you laugh, but it does not make Charles laugh. You can understand why. 

The moon is up by the time you pull up the sidewalk in front of the charming front of the butcher shop. As soon as your foot crosses the barrier of the doorway, the hair on the back of your neck stands up. You see John, the son of the previous owner who had passed away behind the counter. You had asked him if he wanted to man the shop as the boy had seemed a bit unfocused since coming back home. He was a soft lad but very good with numbers. You know how John usually greets you, you know the expressions that should be following your hello to him, but they don't come. Even in the dim light of the shop, you can see he's paler than usual. You might ask how he felt if it wasn't also accompanied by two hands wringing together, sweat on his brow and wide eyes trying to hide how scared they were. 

You know something's wrong. You give him a solemn nod, walking towards the counter, your face turning to the back of the shop. 

"You said the problem was in the office?" you say with an indifferent tone, to not give away any suspicion to whoever was waiting for you in the dark of the building. 

"Yes Miss." he chokes out, glancing pleadingly at Charles who comes in behind you. You believe he knows you know someone is waiting. You assume he's been threatened and give him a nod and a supportive smile. He wouldn't set you up by choice. You won't punish him with anything but mild words later. You motion with your hand for him to get down behind the counter. You look at Charles and he understands, brass on one hand already and a hand on his gun, moving in front of you. You point to the door in question. You can smell the liquor before you're even in the room, a bottle opened sits on the desk. You knew John didn't drink. The clock ticks loudly in the bare walls of the small room. You stand behind the desk, moving as quietly as possible to not give away your position in the room to whoever was waiting in the hallway for you, just on the other side of the door. 

It happens quickly, as those moments of life and death nature usually do. They don't expect the large body of Charles to be waiting against the wall. You see two of them, one being taking down by a loud crack to the skull that overpowers the tick of the clock in the sounds of the scuffle. The one man behind him blindly shoots at you and misses, but you already have your gun out, hiding behind the large wooden desk. He doesn't expect you to rise and aim at him, he bolts and runs. 

"Runner." you say to Charles, jumping over the desk, the liquor bottle crashing to the floor. You run out to the hall, seeing him silhouetted in the back doorway to the building. You zig-zag your way quickly towards him, he shoots and misses again, you hear Charles fire off a shot. The man bolts off out of the eerily lit frame of the door and into the dark alley. You push your feet as hard as they'll go, chasing him across the grimy cobblestone, heels clicking like a card in a bicycle wheel, proving faster than him. Once you've fought your way to the ground, you see the drunken look in his eyes. You can tell by the scratch of his cheap clothes, the dirt under his nails, his hands wet and clammy, thrashing up at you as you bang his head against the stone of the alley that this wasn't the man with motive alone to kill you, he'd been hired. You were so much smaller than Charles that is takes him a moment to catch up, but you have the situation handled by the time his shadow is cast across both you and the man as he stands behind you. You take your dagger out, holding it to the man's neck.

"Who sent you?" you ask, your tone demanding. 

"Not fuckin' tellin'..." he mumbles, you punch him in the nose, he swears and struggles against you, you slam his head into the ground again, another nasty crack of sound.

"Who sent you?" you ask, leaning in towards him, hissing at him, commanding it of him.

"Ugh. I'm just following orders." he moans in pain, his rotting teeth sending a stench to your nose that you have to bat your eyes at to not gag.

"If you tell me who hired you I'll let you go. You haven't even touched me you low life, you aren't worth it. Just tell me who sent you." you lie convincingly. 

"She did." he coughs out, you squint your eyes at him.

"Who?" you growl, leaning in closer, his eyes looking more fearful now than they had. 

"Ricci." he groans. You knew that last name, you knew it well after you learned it was the last name of the man whose tongue you'd cut out at The Garrison. 

"Ricci?" you ask, needing a first name, how many Italians named Ricci could there be in London, a fuck tonne you thought. 

"Greta. Greta Ricci." he spits out. 

You look over your shoulder to Charles who nods, showing he heard the name as well. You didn't know if he knew it but at least he'd heard it as well. 

"Leo's sister?" you say with the same demanding tone. 

"Yeah you fucking killed him," he explains. "She ain't gonna let it go." he shakes his head, eyes not meeting yours, but rolling about in their sockets as if you've jolted them loose. You might have. 

"Looks like she and I have something in common then." you say as you cut his throat. You rise off of him as his hands grasp out at nothing. He quickly bleeds out, you're guessing due to the amount of alcohol in his system, looks like the drink killed him.

You let out a heavy sigh, wiping your knife off on his coat before you put it back in its thigh holster. At least the dagger Alfie got you had been properly Christened now. 

"You know a Greta Ricci?" you ask Charles.

"No miss." he shakes his head. 

"Neither do I. Looks like we've got some work to do tonight Charles. I'll call the missus, this is going to be a late night." you say, turning to walk back towards the shop, your teeth worrying away at your bottom lip in thought. 

You're sitting in the shop, cleaning yourself up while Charles is out dumping the bodies for you. John scrubs the blood off the tile floor as you sit with your legs crossed in a booth against the wall with the phone. 

"I'm sorry Miss Durand." he begins. You hold your hand, still bloody under the nails and around the knuckles to shush him.

"We'll speak of it later John. I've got to handle this tonight. I'm not going to hurt you for what they did, don't worry." you explain, leaning in an trying to give a comforting tone to the shaking boy. 

You call Claire after speaking with John about this Greta Ricci. You learn where the woman lives, you share this information and all that's happened tonight with her. She's angry but not at you, of course, and tells you to keep in touch if possible. You tell her to do damage control tomorrow, make sure no one in the neighborhood wanted to talk, which seeing as you owned most of the two streets you were looking out upon from the large glass window of the shop, you didn't think it would be an issue. You tell her to be prepared to deal with the police, although none had shown up so you might've gotten lucky. You tell her it's going to be a long night and not to expect you back anytime soon. You want this done tonight. She supports your wrath. 

Charles returns, you tell him to wash up, that you're heading back out to the courts in the Italian part of town. Charles heads out to start the car, you're almost out of the doorway, as John calls after you again.

"Are you going to kill her Miss Durand?" he asks meekly. Your face doesn't hide its surprise at the question. 

"Why do you ask?" you say with a turn, your brow low. 

"Well she..." he looks at the ground and sighs. 

"What?" you ask in a much less kind tone.

"She has two boys, Miss." he doesn't look up to meet your eyes. "Their father is long dead and they're just children." he says, eyes almost tearing as they meet yours. You feel a pain in your gut. 

"I won't hurt them, John. I have no quarrel with them, just their mother."

"But they'll have no one left Miss. If you don't mind me saying, you've killed their whole family." he winces, as if you'd strike him for saying it. 

"It's a fact. You can say it between just you and I." you explain and sigh. "I started this dear, and I'm going to finish it," you say with a nod and a smile that you hope reads as not malicious towards him. He nods, looking back down at the floor. "I'm a woman of my word John. Don't lose sleep over those children, yeah?" you ask.

"Yes Miss." he nods.

"You close up and head home after you've cleaned up alright? If you can't open tomorrow I understand. Going through such a night would shake most people to the core. I'll send someone to repair any damage and take care of everything." This seems to ease his worries as his shoulders slump, losing their tension with a heavy sigh.

"Yes, Miss. Thank you."   
\---------  
You share the information with Charles that you've received while he was away. Your posture is very poor on the ride there. You hated having to kill women, but they can be just as ruthless as men with even more rage in their souls backed by oppression since the dawn of time. You were proof of that. Greta was proof of that. But you were a survivor. And Greta wasn't going to be. 

You and Charles walk up the flights of metal stairs as quietly as possible, heads down, weapons away. You move through the crumbling hallway. The walls cracking, plaster in chunks on the floor, the doors old and showing it in their marred faces. It's quiet, the hum of voices in other flats comes and goes, the late night hour making most everyone asleep as this sort worked their fingers to the bone for a living. 

You reach the numbered door. You take a deep breath after retrieving your hairpin, leaning to pick the lock. 

"You need any help Miss?" Charles whispers as the lock clicks. You just shake your head but give a thankful, weak smile. 

"Wait out here. If you hear me shout, come in, otherwise, let me handle this. This will be a bit..." you sigh and shake your head, trying to clear it of any hesitation. "Delicate." you say with a frown. 

He nods in understanding, posting up by the door as you enter the flat. It's shabby and simple, you walk directly into the kitchen, barely anything on the counters, an open, empty cupboard in the corner hits you as highly depressing since children live here. 

You stand by the table, you hear a door creak open, you catch the eye of the woman. The fear in them tells you this is the last thing she expected out of tonight. 

"Come on out Greta, we need to talk." you state quietly and calmly. 

She pulls her thin dressing gown around her, one hand clutching it together, knuckles white and her arms shaking. 

"The boys are asleep." she whispers, stepping up to the other side of the table. A passive move to try to get you to spare her. 

"I assumed at this hour they would be." You let her know you know about her children.

"Miss Durand I-" her tone is pleading just as you thought it would be. You hold up your hand to silence her.

"Not going to work on me," you say with a frown, brow furrowed with the shake of your head. "You've tried to kill me so you've left me with no choice I'm afraid." you explain, eyes squinted, face stone. 

"Please don't hurt my boys." the tears appear in her eyes, her bottom lip sucked into her mouth with emotion.

"I'm not going to hurt your boys. I have nothing for them. I'm here for you, because I know you Italians aren't going to let the death of a family member just go." you nod sternly at her. "Are you?" you tilt your head, your predatory eyes piercing through her thin veiled movement to grab a gun from her pocket. 

"You killed my brother." she says, tears falling now, hand even more shakey than they were without the weight of holding onto a pistol. Her hands are weaving in such a way she couldn't hit you with a miracle. 

"Your brother gave me no reason to think he was worth sparing for his behavior towards me." you say coldly. 

"You didn't know him." she bites back, lip snarled at you, her hate for you bare and raw on her face.

"He didn't know me either." you say with a raised brows. "Didn't stop him though did it? Neither did asking nicely or rudely." you elaborate, voice still quiet. The woman is scared by the calmness in your tone. You remind her of a sorceress from an old fairy tale, dark and looming, threatening to take away everything she ever cared about. 

"You're a heartless monster." her voice cracks and she sniffs from her tears. 

"I can see why you'd think that." you say with a true understanding for her accusations. You felt like a monster sometimes. "But it was just business and you and your little family have gone and made it personal, haven't you?" you purse your lips and shake your head at her. "You brought this upon yourself miss and I'm not happy to be the one to have to do it." you say with real regret in your face that confuses and scares her more. "It's a shame for a woman to kill another woman." your voice goes soft. 

"A mother!" she barks, realizing her volume and looking over the door to the boy's bedroom. 

"Yes. You are." you state in plain agreement. "And you made the wrong decision." you whisper harshly as a sob breaks out of her she aims the gun again at you. It still bobs and weaves just the same, just as shaken with emotion as she was. She gulps and her eyes go wide as you approach her with no fear in your face.

"I'll fucking shoot." she chokes out. 

"And you'll miss if you do." you say in a matter of fact way. "Best not wake your boys with guns." you say, taking the dagger from your thigh. The one Alfie gave you for your birthday. It comforts you in a strange way. What is he going to think about you doing this? The thought passes and you push it away. The woman reluctantly lays the gun on the table, making less noise than you thought for how heavy it looked in her hands. "You can fight or not." you say, moving towards the butcher's block of knives and retrieving one, turning in a controlled spin, steps calm and steady, opposite of hers as you hold the knife out to her. 

"I'm gonna fuckin' fight." she says, yanking the knife out of your hand.

"Your choice." you say with a nod.

She put up a fight, bless her soul. She comes at you, fueled with rage and fear, teeth clenched, hands set in angry claws as they come at you. You block her, sacrificing a surface injury slice to your forearm in the struggle. You fight past the reluctance to kill her. She's wearing herself out quickly, lunging and circling. All you can hear in the flat is her heavy breathing, the breakthrough sobs, the fast and slow cycles of both your feet moving around the kitchen. She comes at you from the wrong angle for her, trying to stab you in the side. You too easily grab her wrist and twist her arm, holding the knife back up against her back, spinning her to face away from you, you hear a disgusting snapping noise as you hoist the arm up in an ugly angle she gasps and you slit her throat before she can vocally react to the pain. You take the knife from her hand so it won't hit the floor and wake up the children. 

She moves to turn towards you, one arm useless, the other grasping at you, scratching as she bled out onto your dress as she stumbles into your arms. This would save the boys having to see the blood you thought. A ruined dress for the sake of saving two children the trauma of having to walk out to a blood-covered kitchen was worth it. She makes deathly noises, gulps, gurgles and inhuman vocalizations fade as she goes limp in your arms. You hold her by the waist and move her to the bedroom. You lay her on her bed. You look down at her and shut your eyes. 

"I hate having to kill women." you whisper to no one but yourself. You let the pain through for a moment, you feel the burn of tears and you take a deep breath, saving them for later. You cross her hands over her stomach and shut her eyes, laying a knitted blanket across her so if they boys did see, they wouldn't know of the carnage. You shut the door behind you quietly. 

You open the front door to Charles, you could tell he'd been a nervous wreck waiting outside. "Come in. Quiet now, the boys are still asleep." you whisper. 

His eyes are wide at the blood, so you explain. "I'm not hurt. I cut her throat, she's in her bedroom." your exhaustion showing through on your face and in your voice. Charles, the nice man he is, pats your shoulder supportively with a reluctant half smile. You nod and accept his wordless apology. 

You use their phone to call Tommy's house. He isn't in, to no surprise to you and you tell Mary of your plans to share with him once he returns home. You tell her you're taking the boys to Grace's Institute. You tell her their last name, and that you'll be putting money into their account to be held until they are of age. She asks no further questions, Mary was a smart lady. 

You call a ride for Charles and the boys. Stating you didn't want them to see you soaked in blood, you didn't want to frighten them. He'll take them to Birmingham and they'll be cared for. You conscious should be clean, but it isn't. 

You cry on the drive home. Alone with your thoughts. After you've cried it out, tears blurring the long dark road back home, the calm sets back in. You did what you had to do, you know this. This was the sort of life you'd chosen.

When you get home it is very, very late. Claire hadn't told Alfie what you were up to or why you'd been gone all night when you'd went out for just a simple errand. Hearing the rumble of the car he quickly removes his glasses, rubbing his eyes before he rises to head to the front door from his study. You're well into the front entryway, already heading towards the direction of your room as you hear his footsteps approach. 

He see's you covered in blood and his drains from his face as he rushes towards you. He reaches out to hold you like he had when you'd come home injured before. You frown and make a noise of disgust that confuses him. 

"Ugh." you groan, shoving him away from you. His eyes are wide and waiting, darting over you for answers. "Not my blood." you say in a deep tone that he isn't entirely familiar with. It makes his jaw tense to hear. 

Your eyes are cold and distant when they reach his, creating more space between the two of you, as you clearly didn't want him near you. "Had more men try to kill me tonight. Shop was a setup." you say, eyes moving from his to the floor, your brow heavy over your tired and red eyes. 

"Is Charles-" he begins and you cut him off with a shake of your head. 

"He's fine. We parted ways. He had to tie up some loose ends for me." you explain in a heavy sigh that tells him something is wrong. 

"Then what's wrong, luv?" he asks, leaning in towards you, the way your face is set pale and hard, opposed to its usual pink, soft lively nature makes his stomach clench.

"I killed the men that came after me. But I found out who sent them before I did." your voice is as cold as your eyes, calm and slow, calculated and holding no inflection as you spoke. "Found out the man I killed..." you look back to his eyes and he's surprised in what he finds behind them. "Had a sister and nephews left." You slowly blink and look away again.

"She sent the men after you?" his voice holds surprise at the news a woman did such a thing. 

"Oui." your voice is quieter now. 

"That's whose blood it is?"

"Yes." you answer coldly, looking back up into his eyes. 

He doesn't look away despite how floored he is. He'd known men that had been killed for leaving women alive that they didn't have the hearts or survival instincts to kill. But he wasn't quite sure how you felt about it. You were so supportive of your fellow women that you having to kill one was something he'd never taken time to consider. Did you see it as no different from any other kill? And to kill a mother, that shocked him. He knew you had to have done some morally questionable things, well for most people morally questionable, to get what you had. His shock passes and he starts to feel the power coming off of you. Your shoulders still and square, your eyes clear and cold. He'd just now stopped to consider how deep your brutality ran and he found himself letting out a heavy sigh involuntarily. Was there anything you couldn't do? Or a better question was, was there anything you wouldn't do? 

You can see he's rolling this information around in his mind. His eyes aren't as cold as yours, his face smartly indifferent to the news. 

"They try to kill me. I survive. That's what I do." you say, trying to clarify you weren't happy or sad about what you'd just done. "No matter who tries to kill me. I will always kill them if they make the mistake in not succeeding the first time." your eyes move away from his with a slow blink. 

He feels his spine tingle at your dark eyes in a match with the impactful delivery of your words holding that certainty he loved that you had out in full force. You'd never let him see this beast that resides inside you before, giving him a short glimpse of your inner demons.

"You get into this way of life and you live and die by it. There's no other way," you state in a calculated way, a sigh leaving your lips. You step back from him, biting your lip for a moment, turning to leave. "If they're fool enough to fail they're practically asking for it, aren't they? That's how this wicked world of ours works, isn't it?" you look back to him. You aren't looking for an answer, or even support. You knew with what he'd had to have done in the war that he understood. And now you found yourself in a different sort of war. It wasn't what he had been through, no, but it was birthed from the same beast of brutality. 

"Doesn't matter," your voice with a hint of anger as you turn back away before he even opens his mouth to respond. "It had to be done." you say in a deep voice, harsh and biting as you walk away from him.

"Fucking hell..." he whispers as you stalk almost silently to your room, just the click of your heels echo through the massive hallway. He's mesmerized, eyes following your every move, gulping at what your words made him feel. He's never heard a woman talk in such a way. He'd never known a woman like you. Hell, there never has been a woman like you as far as he's concerned at this point. It was as if you were beyond human at times in your actions. As if a mere mortal woman couldn't do what you did, some shunned goddess born of Aphrodite and Ares. 

Your brutality stirs something deep and dark within him, something buried in the bloody and grotesque trenches of his mind like the memories of war that helped him realize and birth that darkness into his life after it was over. You can't come back and be the same after doing the things the things he did. You were the first person outside of fellow soldiers to ever vocalize an understanding, an echoing of that same darkness that lay within him. You were the last place he expected to find such a darkness. But he longed to know how deep that darkness went in you and what he could find there. This worried him.


	35. Up To No Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song for the chapter is Up To No Good by The Hoosiers

Alfie comes into the dining room at breakfast, you're perched in your usual seat, dressing gown adorning your form and your hair still fluffy from bed.

"You're fully dressed this morning! Where are you off to?" you inquire, head tilted to the side, watching him enter, already in his coat and hat. Unusual behavior for a Sunday.

"Oh I got a bit of travelin' to do today's all, luv." he pouts his lips and shakes his head. 

"Nothing bad I hope?" you ask with raised brows.

"Nah." he groans out, grabbing an apple off the table. "Your little Birmingham boyfriend has summoned me it seems. 

"Which one?" you ask sincerely.

"Oh well that's the response no man wants to hear," he says with a loud laugh. "Ya Tommy, sweetheart." 

"Oh well, I hope he'll be off the Gin and back in his head. For both of your sake's." you let out a small chuckle.

"You and me both." he agrees with a nod.

"You have time to have breakfast with me?" you lilt and throw your charm at him with insistence.

"Long drive out, innit?" he says pointing at you with one finger, the rest curled around the apple now with a bite taken out of it. 

"It is." you nod and pop a raspberry into your mouth. "Oh!" you call out suddenly, raising from your chair. "Could you drop off something for me? Since you'll be going to his house I assume?" 

"Eh. It'll cost ya." he teases with a gruff tone. 

You smirk at him. "Claire!"

"I'm right behind you, Genevieve. Calm down." he says in a low tone, making her way into the room fully. 

"Could you go get that...that..." you snap your fingers as you think.

"The papers for Tommy, yes." she nods and leaves.

"Merci!" you call out after her, eyes swinging back to Alfie. "I have some papers his lawyer needs for some property. I prefer them hand delivered and not mailed."

"Understandable." he nods, taking another bite of apple.

Claire returns promptly, as always. "Put it all in an envelope." she looks at you but hands it to Alfie. She returns to sit in the chair across the corner from you. 

"Well I'm off, luv." he says tipping his hat. "I'll be back tonight I suspect." he grunts and nods, moving to walk away.

"Be careful, darling!" you lilt out to him, he waves his hand to you in acknowledgment. "If Tommy needs anything else besides what's there in your hand, just call me!" you say louder as he's exited the room.

"Got it!" he says as you hear his cane start tapping against the marble floors. 

You let out a heavy sigh and sit back down. Your eyes move to Claire and you bite your lip.

"Let's hope that goes well." she says in a tone that lets you know she's wary.  
\------  
"Afternoon, Solomons." Tommy says smoothly as he enters the room and heads towards the bar of his office. 

"It is." he nods, taking the papers out of the jacket of his coat. "Gen's sent me with these as well. Somethin' 'bout lawyers and property. I dinnit look at it."

"And I'm supposed to believe that?" he smirks. 

"Whatever you wanna believe mate." he grunts and shrugs. 

"Drink?" Tommy offers, holding a glass of Gin out towards Alfie.

"You know I don't." he gruffs out as he takes a seat in front of Tommy's desk. The slender man lowers himself slowly into the plush leather chair. "What you callin' me all the way out here for?" he hunches over, hands rested on the top of his cane. 

"You have better plans for a Sunday?" he raises his eyebrows while he takes a sip of his drink.

"Yeah, actually I do, mate." he says with a series of nods, his lips pursed together. You were his better plans, and he'd much prefer to have slept with you the night before and just now being woken up, possibly by your lips on him. 

"Well then, we'll stick to business. I have an interesting proposition for you, Alfie. " he says with a firm nod, setting his glass on the table. He rests his elbows on his desk, leaning in towards the other man. He clears his throat, "I've heard Genevieve's been looking for the egg she lost to the Italians." he begins to explain. "I happen to have a proposition for you involving said egg." he moves his eyes back to Alfie.

"Mmm Hmm?" he responds, nodding slowly. 

"I've found a man who is willing to pay an exorbitant amount of money for this egg." he moves his eyes away again. "I wanted to ask you if you knew anything about its whereabouts." he holds his palms up to show his intention of the question to have an answer follow.

"And what if I do?" he did not but he didn't have to let Tommy know that. 

"Well, I think I may have a lead on it myself..." he pauses and Alfie's eyes narrow, knowing something unpleasant was going to come from his mouth at any moment. "Seeing as Genevieve trusts you now, I thought you might be able to get any information she's gathered and inform me of it to see if the sources match up."

"That's the same as stealing the egg from her a second time, Tommy. When are you gonna learn your lesson, eh?" his narrowed eyes are shot to Tommy's.

"Yes, but see ... she wouldn't have to know who was behind it. Would she?" he tilts his head just slightly. "We can have the little kitten go and fetch it for us, then have you, our man on the inside steal it from her and hand it off. She'd be none the wiser. We both get our money, the man gets his egg. Everyone's set."

"Who is it that's wanting to buy it?" his voice is deeper now, Tommy can tell he is unconvinced. "I might know 'em and I can tell ya if you're gonna get fuckin' played." 

"Why would I give you the name? So you can go and take it all yourself?" he lets out a small amused huff. 

Alfie shakes his head, face straight and serious. "Nah. That's where ya wrong, mate. See? I learn from my mistakes...clearly, you aren't capable of such a thing."

Tommy's chin moves back into his chest, eyes still calm but curious.

"If I told Gen about this, she'd have your fuckin' throat for it. You should know that if I do." his eyes open, alert and not moving from Tommy's in a confrontational way.

"But you won't tell her," he states with certainty. "Because you take things from people for yourself Alfie. That's what you do," he says it in an obvious tone. "You've done it to me. We've lied and stolen and almost fucking killed each other over it." Alfie doesn't appreciate Tommy talking to him like he knows him this well. "But we're still here...aren't we?" his eyes narrow with insistence.

"Well me 'n you fuckin' about is a bit different, innit mate?" he head thrusting forward, the menace back behind his eyes.

"Different from what, Alfie?"

"Different from you fuckin' with Gen."

"How?"

"For fuckin' starters, she's a bit bigger of a lad than even me when it comes to business, yeah? She's got deeper pockets and high connections." he says obviously and defensively. "If she's got better odds in her dealings that ME...what in the bloody hell makes you think YOU can come for her, eh?" his brow furrowed, knuckles lightening with his growing grip on the handle of his cane.

Tommy sighs before he continues. "She's a woman Alfie. Sure she's brilliant in her work, yes, but she has certain weaknesses we don't, eh? One's they're born with that even a woman like Genevieve can't escape."

"What the fuck are you on about?" he shakes his head, voice clearly exasperated. 

"Her emotions." Tommy states clearly and matter of factly.

"Everyone's got emotions, mate!" he declares, a wave of his bejeweled hand to the air to go with his snarled lip and annoyed tone. "If ya don't ya fuckin' dead and that's the point innit then?"

"Apparently living with a woman so emotional has made you soft." Tommy says, looking away from Alfie to take a sip of his drink.

"Listen here, little man." Alfie aggressively points his finger in Tommy's face. "You can fuck around me with, yeah? But NOT her." he commands.

"And why exactly is that?" he says in a confrontational tone, his head shaking back and forth as he delivers the words. 

"Because she is ABOVE YOU, yeah? She's not in your fuckin' budget Shelby!" his voice risen and clearly angry. 

"She may not be in my budget but I don't remember neither of us worrying about such things like going for something bigger before."

"Well bigger ain't always makin' things better is it?" he says snarkily, a sigh leaving his lips as he looks away from Tommy, shutting his eyes for a moment to gather himself. 

"My point is she's not making this deal, is she? She's too busy with her sweeping emotions affecting her decisions past her personal dealings and into her business." he tries to be convincing. "I'm not. She only wants the egg because it's shiny and she's a little bird who wants it for her nest. I want it for money. For something real, something useful." his chin moves forward to assert his point.

"What the fuck is wrong with you Thomas?" his bottom lip hanging in disbelief, shaking his head. 

Tommy takes a moment to take another drink and another deep breath. "I'm giving you the option to use her fondness of you to your advantage."

Alfie lets out a strange snort of a laugh that Tommy narrows his eyes and tilts his head at. "And doing that has worked SO well for you hannit?" he barks back.

"She still does jobs for me, doesn't she? I know how to manipulate her, I know her. I thought we might use her as an opportunity to advance both of us, seeing as we find ourselves in her favor."

"I've heard her talk about you when she's drunk mate, you's over estimatin' that favor me thinks."

"No, alfie. Because of those emotions. Because she loves me because she loved Grace. Because she loves Charlie." he lets out a huff of breath at her name, pausing for a moment. "I thought you were a ruthless man who manipulated others to come out on top. That's been my experience."

Alfie takes a deep breath. Rolling his head as if it weighs a tonne back to Tommy, glaring into his eyes. "I ain't gonna fuck it up like you are, Tommy." he stands, shaking his head. "She's too valuable to be fuckin' with in such a way. And over a fuckin' egg? Ridiculous! If I want an egg, I'll get meself a fuckin' egg, right?" his voice travels as he moves towards the door. "I 'ont want no more of this so-called fuckin' advice of yours mate."

"Then it will be the last." he says, moving his hand dismissively.

"Good. There's much better things to waste me fuckin' time on, yeah?" his shoulder moving in a way that shows his anger. 

Tommy is around his desk, moving papers and rolling his eyes. "The very possibility of losing her is worth more than a Faberge egg?" he says in a shady tone. "You've killed for Faberge before."

"Yeah, 'n I killed for her too mate. But I'd rather spend me time with her than a fuckin' egg and that's what I'd be doin' if I crossed her." he says with no hesitation. 

"Alone and among your treasures was something I thought you held in high importance."

"You don't know nuffin 'about what's important to me, mate." a deep tone of warning in his voice.

"I know enough." Tommy quirks an eyebrow up, looking at his desk.

"Then maybe me definition of treasure is changing, eh? You should be inclined to look into doin' much the same." his tone to advise him for the advice given. 

"Fucking hell you have gone soft haven't you?" Tommy says, face looser, staring at Alfie who stands across the room.

"I ain't gone nuffin'. I'm just clearly the smarter, the superior of us two and I can see the value of something when it's right into of me fuckin' face, yeah? I ain't inclined to go fuckin' things up when they're running right. Unlike you." he spits out. " Can't enjoy a fuckin' thing anymore can ya? Call me soft all ya fuckin' want, don't make it fuckin true. Ya just name callin' like a child because you've let ya misery swallow ya up. I ain't inclined to go the same way as you." his finger that's been pointed and probing in the other man's direction finally falls to his side. 

"What happened to living and dying by the sword, Alfie?"

"I've both lived and died by it Thomas! Same as you. Same as her. I can't grasp what makes that shaken, gin-soaked brain of yours think you could get away with fuckin' her over like this. After you already lied to her on the same subject. On this big of a scale? Ya think a fuckin' Lady ain't gonna find out when a little Birmingham scrub like you is up and tryin' to fuck about in high society? Ya fuckin' daft little boy. I 'on't know what makes you think that just because I'm not willingly putting an expiration date on one of the most beneficial business relationships I've ever forged, that that means I'm not still livin' in the same wicked world as you mate." his head moves animated as his voice is carried across the room clearly with booming inflections, hand moving as he speaks, one grasping his cane as he waves it about in his anger. 

"And what of the personal relationship?" Alfie has had it with his passive aggressiveness. 

"It's always business first, innit? It is for me, it is for her. Thought I could say the same 'bout you but you've gone and chosen yourself over everything ain't ya? Over ya business. Over ya family...yeah. How many times have you almost fuckin' killed them now? Those same ones that made it possible for the little tatterdemalion boy ya was to get where ya are now." he opens the door. "You're supposed to choose your loyalties, mate. Not lose them all. I 'on't know who this connect is, but unless it's the fuckin' Queen, and even then, I'd say reconsider." he barks out before slamming the door behind him.  
\--  
He stalks into the house, chest feeling heavy with the burden Tommy had placed upon him. Mad for him wanting to hurt you, mad you weren't there to hear Tommy's words yourself and get to watch you pounce over his desk and wallop him with your small but fierce fists. 

His coat and hat are taken, he hands them off with a nod and a sigh, looking down the hall towards your wing. He hears faint music that grows louder as he makes his way in your bedroom. He hears the water splashing, you humming happily in your bath and he doesn't have the heart or energy to ruin your night right now. He'd let you sit blissfully unaware of Tommy's betrayal for another night. He hangs his head and goes back to his room.  
\----  
"Gen, dear it's Thomas!" Aggie lilts, bringing the phone to you in your bathroom.

You smile and take the phone from her as she sits the base on a table next to the tub.

"Hello Thomas." you say with a lazy sigh, your toes wiggling out of the water. 

"Good evening, sweetheart." his voice sounds tired.

"Oh I get a sweetheart, that means it either went very well or very poorly." you say with a quiet chuckle, shaking the water and causing the bubbles to pop and fizz. 

"Has he not returned home?" 

"Yeah, but it wasn't that long ago, he's probably perched in his study as usual. You must've worn the poor thing out." you say with a playful scold. 

"More like he wore me out."

"Oh do tell, please." you coo into the phone. He tells about how he turned him down, how he told him no over and over again. Each time the smile on your face growing a bit larger, by the end you're on the verge of pruning fingertips are between your lip in the relief you're hearing from him passing every test that had been put before him. You sit in silence, Tommy hears your deep sigh.

"Quite the relief for you I'd imagine." he says with that same implying tone.

"More than." you almost shout in your enthusiasm but muffle your laughter by sinking back down into the bath, bubbling the water with your lips. 

"Happy to help, Gen. We even for now?"

"Almost." you laugh. "Even enough. Thank you, dear."

"You're welcome, sweetheart."

"Kiss Charlie for me. Tell him I said hello."

Your sweet tone, that genuineness he can feel through the phone is the same that he knows Alfie feels. He hopes he's back fully in your good graces. Certainly, with the political influence of yours he'd need soon. He also found a whisper of peace he hadn't expected, something he pushed away as soon as it appeared, the thought that he wouldn't have to deal with Alfie fucking you over. Because he knew if he ever did you would get him involved and what a fucking mess that would be. "Of course, Gen."

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight." he lets out a sigh, the business being concluded, looking around his office, dim from the light of the single lamp lit not enough to fight back the darkness. More ends tied, he mumbles to himself. You'd keep Alfie from reacting and make him docile about the whole situation with a pre-planned trip to come watch Charlie while he's out of town, pretending you're arguing with Thomas while you're there. He knows you're a fine actress, he knows it will all play out according to plan. He pours a drink, thankful to be celebrating something going right for once.


	36. Beast of Burden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song for the chapter is Beast of Burden by The Rolling Stones.

Alfie had been so nice to you that morning, unusually so and it was hard not to give away your secret in your smile as his compliments came with cheek kisses and shoulder squeezes, getting both unprovoked at breakfast wasn't something he'd done before. Alfie had sat you down after he came in from work that same day. His eyes showed pity and his face showed his hesitancy to share what he thought Thomas was trying to do to you. You sell it and sell it well. You leave him in a similar fashion to the night he'd filled your house with lavender. You thank him, tears threatening to fall, with a single kiss, your thumb rubbing his cheek as you sigh and excuse yourself. The poor lad was never the wiser. 

After seeing how revealingly kind Alfie had been, in both what he said to Tommy and what he'd told you had happened, you felt a lingering pang of guilt knocking around in your head along with your reasons for doing it. You had to be certain about his loyalty to you if you were to truly accept this new gangster lifestyle. You hadn't had a choice. A woman in this life didn't get a second chance if she trusted the wrong person. You already owned one street, working on a second and you couldn't move forward without knowing you'd have him in your corner. You wanted to thank him, and there was one way that you could that you knew he'd appreciate. 

It's almost ten, you're in Alfie's room, looking out the window to the forest and rolling hills. The sound of summer storm moving across the land rumbles the panes and sends a calm throughout the house. You thought he'd be home by now, your nails tap on the glass as your teeth worry away at your lips. You were starting to chill with the thin fabric of the gown you wore. You'd planned on slithering right up to him as he walked in the door and spending the night thanking him with your body for being such a good boy through this whole ordeal. 

By the time he gets home, it's hours later. You'd fallen asleep in his bed, determined to see your plan through, and the need to warm up after your choice in pajamas fell short on the coverage of your body for warmth.

"What the fuckin' hell ya doin' in 'ere Genny?" is what you're woken up by. You sit up with a grunt, running your hand through your hair. 

"Waiting for you..." you grumble, voice heavy with sleep. You rub your eyes before focusing them on the clock, seeing the surprising hour. 

"Well I kept ya waitin' dinnit I?" he says, tossing his jacket unceremoniously onto a chair. His brow is furrowed, circles under his eyes making him look gaunt. You can see the redness appearing on his neck as you could tell he'd been fidgeting and scratching himself in thought too often. You found a different sort of urge come over you from the intended one you'd come in with. 

He sits on the opposite side of the bed as you laid on. He grunts with the impact, stretching his neck from side to side, triggering a huge yawn. You crawl over the bed and slink off the side to stand before him. 

"Looks like you could use some kindness, darling." you say softly, fingers starting to work at the buttons on his vest.

"Ya got any to spare?" he asks, tired eyes looking up at you, you give him a sweet smile.

"I might be able to find some around here somewhere." you chuckle softly, moving to the buttons on his shirt. 

"Ya don't gotta, sweetie I'm fuckin' barely still together after tonight." he yawns, his arms moving slowly and possibly subconsciously as you slide the layers off of him. 

"I've been going through it this week as well, Fie." you kiss the top of his head, a grunt escaping from deep in his chest at the gesture. You get another grunt as you kneel down to pull off one of his shoes.

"Not that it ain't fuckin' heavenly havin' a creature like you tend to me, but ya ain't gotta-" he protests weakly. 

"Hush, Alfie. I was trained to take care of men for most of my life, you know. I'm very good at it." you say with a bossy smile that slumps his shoulders in defeat. You move to place his shoes together at the foot of the bed for the maids to pick up to clean. He'd been somewhere disgusting tonight, the metallic smell of blood drifts by as the bottoms of his shoes have become disturbed. You move back to kneeling in front of him, grabbing his big toe playfully and tugging at his sock before rolling it down and off. The feel of your silken skin touching and tending to his sensitive never touched nerves of his ankles draws a heavy sigh from him as you ball it and toss it into a basket across the room. A single nod in victory as it lands where it's supposed to. You seamlessly move to repeat the action on the other foot. 

"You are that, yeah?" he says with a half smile, watching your soft polished hands move delicately across the rough natural fabrics of his clothes. "But I recall you cursin' about that trainin' when ya's drunk, love. 'Bout how much you hated it." his eyes move away from you. 

"You know I don't do anything I don't want to do. Best you just let me do something that's nice while I have the urge to be so, eh?" you give another soft smile, meeting his eyes to let him know you weren't doing it out of some expected gender role exchange. You did it because it came to you naturally for him, you were so bold as to think that it also came naturally to him to treat you much the same. Still on your knees, your hands go for the closure on his trousers.

"Luv I ain't got it in me tonight." he says, his voice gritty, hand holding your wrist before you shake it out of his grasp. 

"I might've come in here with the intention for such a thing but I'm not trying to give you any trouble tonight am I? Now lay back." you say with a smirk to go with the chuckle his suggestion makes, shaking your head and standing after you push him back onto the bed by the shoulder. He lands with a grunt. 

"I'm a grown fuckin' man ya don't gotta-" you shush him again, yanking his trousers off him, and loom above his solid form. His eyes close but brow still furrowed 

"Stop being so difficult," you say with a laugh. "You've taken care of me before, let me do it for you." you look him over him, considering your next move.

He grunts in response, opening one eye first. "I 'ave taken care of ya before, 'aven't I?" a smug, lazy smile comes across his lips.

"Yes, you have. Now scoot up and get your head on the pillows you silly boy." you almost baby talk him. "You keeping these on?" you ask with a raised eyebrow, one finger tugging at the waistband of his underwear. 

"Gotta keep you offa me so yeah." he says with a snort. You laugh as you walk to the other side of the bed, he turns his head to watch you. 

"I'm certain I can control myself." you grin at him, hand resting on the book on the table by the bed you'd brought in, planning to take it with you and go back to your bed.

He moves too fast for how tired he claims he is. He almost rolls over, grabbing your wrist and yanking you back into the bed. You land with a plop on your hip. Giving him a scolding look he can barely read in the dark. "But count on you to not." you snicker. 

"Nah I want ya to do somefin' for me and it requires you gettin' back in bed so I just took the liberty of just fuckin' pullin' ya back in meself." You lay propped up on your elbows, looking at each other. 

"What am I doing back in bed with you then?" you give him a smile that he feels in the dark, he hears you wet your lips and hears the quiet pops of your tongue as that smile grows as he grunts and reaches out to find your knee.

"I may not have voiced it at the time but I found myself real fuckin' fond of what ya's doing to me hair and face after you fixed me back," he says in a grumbled way you find endearing. "I wanted ya to do it again." he leans in closer to you, voice quieter now. "I know 'is a favor, yeah? I know ya ain't much on it at night. But how can a man help but want ya to keep ya hands on him in such a soothing way." he admits, his lips pouting with his annunciation. 

"I'm not opposed to a good cuddle. Touch is vital for humans. I just don't tend to crave it in such a way after sex like a lot of people do. Just not something I've made a habit." you scoot yourself up, your chest close to his face as you hear a deep, relaxing sigh. "But just good, old-fashioned affection? You have only to ask, darling." He grunts and nods at you. You move to lay on your back slightly under him like you had the last time, scooting yourself closer to him. Your fingers moving into his beard. "Most like getting cooed and cuddled when they feel bad. The touch helps you recharge, I believe." his eyes roll back and shut as your nails scratch his scalp lightly.

"And I do feel fuckin' bad." he groans out. 

"Then lie down next to me so you can fall asleep." What a heavenly thing to hear in the sound of your voice, he thought. 

You adjust yourself after he plops his head onto the pillow you move towards him to share so you can see him properly. You busy one hand in his beard, rubbing his neck lightly. The others move through his dark hair, you mess it up on purpose, looking forward to the bed head he'd have in the morning. He was so boyishly handsome, all disheveled. You're cut out of your cycles of stroking and scratching as a snore of him nodding off escapes his popping lips, triggering an involuntary smile from you. 

"Goodnight you big pup." you whisper, thumb rubbing his cheek before you slowly separate yourself from him. You lay on your back next to him, shutting your eyes and listening to his breathing as it's even pace helps you start to feel sleepy again. You feel him move, bringing the covers up over you both. You feel a warm paw reach out, grabbing your waist as he settles in closer. 

"Another favor." he mumbles, smiling a smug closed mouth smile, not even opening his eyes. As he lays his head on your stomach, his big arm over you, his body weighing heavily on you. He hums contently as he feels you laugh, knowing he's gotten his way. You put a pillow behind your head, laying back and propping up slightly, your fingers go back to play in his hair. You most certainly were right in calling him a pup. The big, bad Alfie Solomons everyone feared curled up for a scratch behind the ears. You don't think anyone would've believed you even if you did tell them.  
\----  
You'd separated at some point in the hours you'd been sleeping. He wakes up to see you still deeply asleep, laying on your side, facing away from him taking slow breaths. Your shoulders bare, he can see the handful of freckles that scatter across your back that in the dim light of the morning sun, just barely intruding on the light in the room, are enough to draw his attention to them. He slowly stretches, a grunt as his body goes back to rest. He looks down to see the usual morning intrusion between his legs, insisting he touch you. His hand reaches out, covering your shoulder, his face hovering over your hair. You stir at the warmth he brings over with him. You don't open your eyes, you remain still except for the deep breath you take, triggering a yawn as you hum and nestle back into the bed. His arm reaches around your stomach as he scoots himself closer. The heat of him is almost searing against your skin, still chilled from being bare against the air of the room. 

"Matin." you mumble, moving your face into the pillow. Your voice is weak and breathy.

"Mornin', luv." his sleep-heavy voice naturally sends a warm sensation down your spine with it's impossibly seductive, deep tone. He plants a kiss on your shoulder first, hesitantly as if he's testing you for a reaction. When you make no sign of rebuttal, you feel the heat of his hand as it moves to your upper arm, the weight comforting and warm, his thumb making idle trails over your back. You take a slow, indulgent deep breath, resettling your body under the thin covers, your hips wiggling against a clear sign of his intentions. You hear him grunt as you make the, at first, unintentional contact, the low noise near your ear. You reach up to tuck your hair behind it, giving a clear invitation he does not hesitate to act on as you feel his lips against your shoulder once again, now not leaving but moving in languid, indulgent movements, leaving trails from his peeking tongue behind that send chills as the air hits them. 

"Mmmph, Alfie." you exhale, your eyes opening just slightly, you sigh and relax against his large form. His hand trails down your arm to your stomach, fingers splayed across the soft silk of your nightgown. That tenderly feminine way you said his name fuels him as his eyes roll behind his lids. Leading the way with his nose, he moves to your neck, breathing you inaudibly, nose on your ear, lips on your throat. You wondered if you could talk him into waking you up like this more often.

His hand moves up your ribs, grasping at you in a firm hold as he pulls you closer, you feel him against your bum, shifting against him as his hands glide with purpose to your chest. His strong square-tipped fingers curl around the neckline of your nightgown. They grasp and tug, pulling it down to spill your chest out into his eagerly kneading hand. 

He breath is heavy against your ear. "Fancy a fuck this mornin', luv?" he rasps in your ear, that velvet voice making parts of you he'd referred to as velvet tense. As he buries his face in your hair he hears you let out that low hum of approval he's grown fond of. 

"It's what I came in here for, isn't it?" he raises his head to see that sly smile on your face, he presses his lips against the side of your face as you turn your upper body just slightly, reaching behind you. Your hand moves down his stomach, fingers moving, searching and finding him twitching and waiting. You grasp him over the thin fabric you'd left on him the night before. 

"It is." he groans, your chest being turned up towards him more now, he leans over you to engulf one of your hardening nipples with his warm mouth. He sucks gently for a moment, a weighted sigh builds in your chest. "How's about..." he begins, moving from your breast to kick off his underwear. "We take the lazy way out this mornin'." his hands move back to your hips, his mouth to your neck once more. "We can revisit this and we can proper take out all that stress from work on each other tonight, eh?" his voice is slow and low, confident but still requesting permission.

"What does this lazy way out entail?" you ask, your lashes fluttering before your dark eyes meet his. You wore a soft expression on your face despite how your hand was currently cupping and fondling his balls, making his eyes want to shut again at the feeling. 

"It means we don't wear ourselves out, but we both still get off, luv." his speech gets less articulate the longer you tug at him, the head of his cock wedged between your cheeks, his lids going heavy, lips parted. 

"Mmm." you hum. "You're so hard this morning, Fie." you whisper out, eyes closed, lips in a smile as you tighten your grip around him. "Are you planning on making me come like this?" you ask almost innocently, pressing back on his cock, burying him deeper between your thighs and bum. He lets out a low grunt of approval, hips bucking slightly at the gesture. 

"I am. Why?" his voice is back to aggressive, you feel the breath huff from his flared nostrils, a rough hand back on your breast. 

"Good. You'll hit where you should if you fuck me like this." you purr back, you're still quiet and soft, although not from sleep any longer.

"You think I don't know how to make you come by now?" he says in a condescending tone you welcomed, he reaches down to yank up one of your legs by the knee, opening you up to him. You feel the heat of his hands running down your inner thigh in a clear taunt.

"That's not what I said." you say with a pouty, playfully defensive tone, your hips swiveling. "I was merely supporting the decision." you keep your cool demeanor as his fingers move between your lips. 

"I would say yer lyin' but what with how wet you are I can tell yer proper fuckin' supportive innit ya?" he says in that perfect mixture of predatory and charming.

"Don't use that tone with me when it's your fault I'm wet," you say with a taunting smile, he returns the expression, leaning down to kiss you, lips only lightly manipulating yours. "You aren't going to shame me..." you say in a tone that makes him smile into the kiss. "Not when I know how much you love how wet I get for you." you purr at him. 

He exhales forcefully out of his nostrils, "I do fuckin' love it, dunnit I?" his lips work forcefully against your own as he moves his fingers tips back and forth, grazing over your clit. Your eyes roll back behind their lids as you continue pulling away at him, his hips bucking with your movements. You feel him resituate himself, his fingers only leaving your body for a second as one teases you before he slides it inside you. Immediately drawing a sharp inhale against his lips, he cuts short the moan he causes as he hooks his finger into you. He slips an arm under your neck, holding you tightly and pulling you closer, his kisses almost overwhelming enough of an experience to make you forget his fingers. You maneuver your arm out and up to grip your fingers into his hair, pulling him hungrily closer with an encouraging moan as he slips another finger inside you. 

You swear in a breathy exhale as your hips buck, "Fuck." you say weakly, his fingertips starting to press and roam over the spot inside you that he's learning so intimately that it's almost an unfair advantage at how quickly he can render you helpless with it. 

"So eager already." he says in that condescending tone you love, pressing harder as he pumps his fingers in and out of you, those skilled fingers pulsing and drawing a higher pitched, helpless, "Fuck." in response. "You hear how fucking wet you are?" the tone of his voice, deep and shaming makes you moan loudly against his mouth, hovering over yours, greedily watching you give yourself over. 

"Oui." you choke out, so intoxicatingly submissive to his ears that craved those sounds from you, your thighs tense as he brushes over your clit with his thumb. 

"Should I make you come like this? Or should I fill you up and make you come around this throbbing cock you've caused."

You let out another breathy moan, your brow falling, eyes opening and piercing straight into his. "Around that throbbing cock of yours." the seductress was back behind your eyes, he knew you were close as he sees your eyes dark and focused. 

He doesn't hesitate, and how could he after that request. HIs fingers are out of you in a flash, hand tight around his cock, covering him in your wetness, dripping from his fingers. You tilt your hips back, leg bent and knee up, opening you wide, a clear and open invitation that he answers swiftly, his hips dipping down to line himself up with you. Your bodies now familiar with each other, notch together with less and less conscious effort each time. 

You let out a guttural moan, your hips involuntarily twitching as you feel that satisfying pressure of his head making its way inside you. Your fingers are taught in his hair, you wet your lips at the sensation of him slowly filling you up. He pulls your hips back towards him, you feel him fill you up entirely, holding himself in you as deeply as he could. His arms snakes up to your breasts, holding one tightly, an assault of kisses soon following. They're deep and intense, doing his best to stimulate you to the point of being overwhelmed, giving him what he desperately worked towards in fucking you so thoroughly that you'd never forget how good he made you feel. His fingers pinch and roll your nipples, he feels you pulse around him and he curses in a growl you tense even more in reaction to, he moans from the things your body does to him, you falling apart, making him do the same. 

"Fuck me, Alfie." you whine and reach between your legs to your clit. You hear him rumble out a groan at your needful words "Make me come." you say in a much more seductive and less demanding way, moaning as he feels you touching yourself, drawing out of you and pushing back in with a hiss. 

"Your cunt feels like fucking silk, luv." he says quietly, breathily into your ear, lips moving along the side of your face. He only takes a few strokes to adjust to your tight grip around him. 

"Yes, 'Fie, more." you moan as you let your head fall back, your fingers working in circles around your clit. His pace filling you up with a shove, dragging himself slowly in and out of you and pushing every spot you wanted on his way. His arm across your chest moves to the side of your head, pressing you against him, your entire body moved when he pumped into you. A flush travels across your face, you buck against him, lip bitten in concentration. He pulls your face just a breath away from his own, eyes dark and hungry, meeting yours as he watches them roll and flutter when he reaches down to yank your leg up by your thigh, hand strong and firm against the soft flesh. 

"You feel so tight like this," he groans out. Hand moving to slap where your arse meets your legs. "Fuck." he growls as he hits into you harder, making you squeak, the slaps and slams making you seize around him and threaten to end this too soon. His hand moving back quickly to your face again, his tongue greedily invading your panting mouth. Devouring your already helpless moans. 

He feels that first roll of your body against his. That wave of pleasure your body takes so literally, every soft bit of you pressing against him as you writhe. You head falls back again, his temple rests against yours. "You are as hard as a fucking diamond." you moan out in praise. "You feel so good." you moan out in a soft way, his lips findings your bare skin again, pressing against your face, nostrils flared as he huffs out breaths timed with his thrusts. "Fuck I'm close." you whisper out, but he doesn't dare not catch the warning. 

"Come on then." his tone cocky and challenging and you shudder against him as the hot breath following his words connect your lips as he pulls back to look at your face, your body heat, mixed with the heat from the friction you both create forms a thin veil of sweat over your bodies, his hair limp and bouncing across his forehead in time to his thrusts. 

Your moans turn to cried swears, he moves his hand to your chest, holding you down, holding you close as he fucks into you with a loud slapping thud each time, making your mouth gasp open. You make a squeaking sound he isn't sure of at first, but the lustful almost roar that follows it makes him pant into your ear, growling at your sinful sounds. 

Your hand, surprisingly to him, moves quickly from between your legs to grasp at his forearm. "That's it." you cry out, lip slightly snarled as you used your grip on his arm to push back into his hips causing the devilish wet slap of skin to skin to echo throughout the room. "Yes, make me come all over that fucking cock." your teeth clenched, voice with no innocence to be found in it any longer. He isn't sure how but he lasts through the sensual show you put on as you pulse around him. He can hear every breath as your head falls back again against his, he takes the shell of your ear between his teeth. He holds you down yet again, your shaking hands letting his forearm go with no resistance to your soft mound, he holds himself deep inside you, making your eyes cross as he prolongs the blissfull fluttering of your hips.   
He slows, but he does not stop, the same can be said for the small little moans that follow your panted breaths. The drawn-out, full tilt moan that blooms out of your mouth, so close to his ear hold his full attention. "Oh she's still got more in her, does she?" he asks, a wet kiss pressed to the side of your face.

"Yes. You feel so fucking good." your hand moves back to in his hair as soon as his grip moves back to your hips. "Alfie, don't stop." you plead, he feels your juices starting to make their way down his balls, his tongue laps at the skin under your ear in a purely animalistic reaction to your body's wordless praises along with the pleading call of his name from your sweet lips. 

"I won't. I won't." he coos in your ear. The unexpected softness in his raspy voice makes you shudder in his arms. His hold tight, his hand moving up to the side of your face again, pushing back the wet hair that's stuck to your face in your writhing. He keeps it there, his mouth working just under your earlobe, forehead pressed against your temple as he keeps pumping into you at a much gentler pace than what drew the first orgasm from you. 

"Just like that." you barely rasp out, your request for something softer surprises him but he's more than relieved at the news. This slow build, this slow burn that felt like it was threatening to become untamable at any second was new. You always wanted it harder, faster, rougher. Here you were, trembling, almost two orgasms deep in a man's arms asking him to fuck you slowly. If this is what slow was like maybe you should stop shunning slow. The point is driven home when you feel that magnificent cock of his push you just where it needed to to make sure you took the hint that when done right, perhaps slow wasn't something you should look down upon. 

He's not witnessed you come like this before. You don't convulse, you don't shout or scratch. Instead, a building, needful moan comes in waves with your deep breaths as he feels you reach some bewitching mixture of wet and tight. Hard, sudden squeezes draw swears from his mouth against your skin. His eyes are kept open, watching your lips, panting, licking, calling out his name as you roll like a serpent against him. He knows he isn't going to last forever, but if he could have stayed right there and orgasmed you into dehydration, he would.

He sees your eyes shoot open, fluttering and rolling as they try to focus again. "Holy Shit, Solomons." you pant out, taking a noisy gulp. "Fuck, you're good." you moan out, taking a moment to shake your head before turning your face to his and kissing him. 

In his already close state, your actions catch him off guard. You move away and off of him to his confusion, but you don't give him time to even get in a vocal rebuttal as you push him to the bed by his hip, moving to take the tip of him into your mouth and all he can manage is one hand at his side and the other moving your hair out of your face so he can see whatever magic you are working on him. Your hands play with his balls, eliciting a deep moan from him, his head thrown back, your nails just grazing and manipulating the flesh before they go to wrap around his length, joining forces with your mouth, rendering him useless. 

"Fuckin' 'ell, Genevieve." he eventually manages, bottom lip hanging down, line of teeth exposed, both hands next to him on the bed as you suck and stroke him to his end. "Fuck, luv you're gonna-"

Your eyes shoot up to his, your hands, slightly overlapped, and wet work on his length, your pink lips framing your tongue, which currently had the head of his cock being slapped against it and he moans like a bloody woman at the sight. "You've been such a good boy I think I'll even swallow all your spunk this time, Alfie." he doesn't know if it's the visual, the auditory stimulation or the filth of the words, but in combination with the sound of you saying his name with his cock in your mouth makes him cum, and hard with no further warning given to either you or him about it. As he spurts out against your tongue and lips you suck him down again, you meet your nose with his pelvis as he shoots into your mouth, all you can make out is a random assortment of "Fuckin" "hell" and "Gen" in cycles. 

You make that obscene pop that causes his balls tingle with your mouth as you slide off him after his hips still. He watches you put on a show for him, his mouth open, pink and panting like yours, eyes not changed from dark yet, face relaxed and spent. You crawl back up the bed, your index finger wiping the bits of him that had caught you both off guard, as you lay next to him, facing him, you suck the rest of your finger, that same wet obscene pop making his cock twitch even now. You give a filthy smile, everything about it naughty as you look up at him from your lashes. Now laying back on the bed and looking at him with a smile that looked like you knew a secret he didn't. 

"You're a fucking angel or the god damn devil and I can't decide which," he says, voice still exasperated and you grin, moving to your side and reaching for the blanket to cover both of you as you'd started getting chilly again already. "We were supposed to just lay and get off and then ya had to....do all 'at." he says, hand motioning to his crotch. "Ya really didn't have to do that sweetheart." he turns his face back to you. It holds a curious expression, your eyes slowly blinking at him as he returns the expression. 

"I suppose I would have to say my odds are on the devil." you grin. "Seeing as you know how much I love to do that sort of thing." your eyes swing to his cock with a raise of an eyebrow and back up to his eyes. 

"I can see the logic on 'at, yeah?" he gulps and lets out a noisy breath. "But my odds are on angel because sayin' that just made ya fuckin' perfect dinnit?" a slow, lazy smile forms across both of your faces as you lay in the afterglow together.


	37. Filthy/Gorgeous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song for the chapter is Filthy/Gorgeous by Scissor Sisters.

You're sorting through letters in your hands as you walk to Alfie's study on a warm afternoon. 

 

"Here you go, darling. I've been told to hand these to you," you say with a handful of decorative envelopes in a neat stack between your painted nails.   
A nod and grunt, a furrowed brow with a large hand reaching out, palm up in expectancy of your handing him the letters. "Looks as though we've gotten the same invitation." you say, moving it out away from the rest in the stack with your finger after he lays them on the desk. 

"Eh? What's that now?" he says, shaking his head, pulling his train of thought to your words. 

"I'm thinking we've both been invited to the same wedding." you say in a slow pace as your eyes scan over the folded gilded paper. 

He hums in curiosity and rips open the paper square to inspect the one he's received. 

"Ah, one of the jewelers I see." he says gruffly, fingers adjusting his glasses on his face.

"What a match. A jeweler and jewel thief." you say with a shoulder-shaking laugh.

He looks up to you with a questioning, raised brow. 

"Thalia. We've worked together before." you shake the paper in your hand. "I've worked with James as well but I just bought and sold for him."

"Yeah I didn't assume a man like James would be out there runnin' round on jobs with you." he says with a smirk, as James was more than a bit older than you both. 

"I have been to his parties though." you say with a grin. 

"I have as well." Alfie says with an expression that shares the same sentiment. James knew how to throw a fucking party. 

"You wanna go? I mean, sure it's a wedding but the party after the ceremony just might be worth it." your eyes and grin are wide as you beam down at him with mischief in your eyes. 

"Not much for weddings, eh?" he asks, his eyes still moving over his own invitation. 

"I don't hate them," you say in defense of yourself. "But the ceremonies can be a bit boring," you say with a slight frown, showing your honesty. "If you're emotionally invested it's lovely but when you just want to get to the party after it can all be very tedious and expected. The same thing is repeated for so many years over and over, not exactly riveting for the bystander." you say with a small laugh and grin. 

"You are certainly no good at being a bystander for anything, luv." he says with a laugh, tossing the paper back onto the desk. "I suppose I do need to socialize with that lot a bit more, dunnit I?" he says in a groan. 

"Couldn't hurt." you say optimistically with a shrug. "Give us a chance to show off some jewels, seeing as the bride and groom are both in the profession." you say cheekily, your fingers running across your collarbones displaying a piece that wasn't there. 

"You aren't supposed to show up the bride at a wedding Genevieve." his voice low as he looks up at you from under his brow with a smirk on his face at your expression. 

You open your mouth to defend yourself but end up shrugging and rolling your eyes with a flirty flourish as your bit your lip to play innocent at the accusation. You let out a "Hmph." as you stand up straight. "I know that." you say with a wrinkled nose, looking over his head with the childlike expression, like you'd been caught doing something naughty before you let out a soft laugh and turn to leave the room.   
\------  
Had you purposely made yourself run late so you wouldn't have to sit through a ceremony and could just take a longer car ride to their house and wait it out? Had he not bothered to remind you of what time to leave and never asked you to hurry up so you would make them late and you wouldn't have to sit through the ceremony? Yes.

You trot out in a lavender dress. Slim straps held it in place on your shoulders, somewhat hidden from your only partially up hairstyle, set into soft curls around your natural looking made up face. The dress has small sparkling beads in the small lace-like pattern detailing as it hugged your body, the stretchy fabric ending right below your hips, turning into a maribou-trimmed bottom hem, making you look like some sort of bell-shaped flower, your lovely legs serving as peaking stamens, tipped with gold heels. The heels match the coat you've just thrown over your shoulders, a lighter fabric than the thick one of his similarly styled overcoat. 

He drinks in the sight of you, taking dangling diamond earrings from Aggie's hands as you sway towards him, eyes focused on the ground as you bite your lip in concentration to snap the earrings correctly. You adjust your rings and clasp your bright diamond bracelet as she latches the necklace, same simple styling, and stones as the rest of the set. Aggie is picking spare pieces of the fluff that's come loose off the new dress as he approaches you. 

"This is new, yes?" you say, your dark eyes focused on his after you took in his suit, a smile that made his nose twitch in anticipation sits upon your face. 

"It is." he says, his fingers reaching out to untangle a piece of hair that's gotten wrapped in a button on your coat. "Freddie got me all measured up before he left." 

"You little sneak." you say, retracting your chin into your chest.

"I lost all me suits, so maybe it's one of those fuckin' signs ya talk 'bout that I should try somefin' new. I got 'is 'n different colors, much the same, yeah?" he says with a proud pouted lip, decorated fingers fussing with his big, ornate cuff links. "Whatcha think, luv? Ya fancy it?" he says, thumbs slipping under the black suspenders, resting under a deep, deep barely purple but just enough to call it not black, black. The gold from his rings melded so well it makes you want to whimper, the emerald eyes on his serpent ring complimenting the subtle use of color so well your bottom lip pouted out. 

"You look so good I don't know whether to kiss you or kill you, Solomons." you admit with a sigh and a shrug, your honest eyes looking up at him. 

"If I got a choice I'd prefer the former, luv." he says with a charming grin that makes your pout tense and turns to a smirk. "You look like the dancing girls in the pictures in this dress." he says with fondness. 

"Well I plan on dancing like them so it seemed suited," you say with another charming smile. "You going to dance tonight? How drunk do I have to get you to get a fast dance with Alfie Solomons?" you ask with a wrinkled nose, smile beaming up at him to leave him weak, your slender fingers tugging at his suspenders just about the snaps to his trousers. 

"I guess you keep askin' me and we'll find out won't we?" he pushes back with equal sexual aggression laced words, face leaning in close to yours. You could already tell your chemistry tonight would make for a good time whether you found that or trouble waiting for you.  
\-------  
You pull up in a long line of cars to the grand house. It was just outside of town, stone and looming with its large columns that lit the countryside that surrounded it. The house was glowing from within, the insides hidden with curtains pulled shut in the tall windows. 

You fluff the hem of your dress as you stand near the corner of the house, getting a glimpse of the buzzing party inside, lanterns in the garden, hidden just barely by an ivy-covered fence. "You go in first, that way we're separate and people will be busy watching you come in and won't notice me." you say, looking down at your dress and checking it for unsightly creases from the ride over. 

"That has to be the most stupid thing I've heard you say, Gen." he says with a chuckle. "Yeah, they gonna be too busy lookin' at me, eh? With you as an option?" he shakes his head, eyes looking far over and past where you stood. "Ridiculous. luv." he says dismissively before returning his eyes to yours. 

"Well what do you suggest since I'm apparently just a gorgeous moron." you say with a roll of your eyes, your arms crossing across your chest. 

"I'll be sure to refer to ya as a homely genius from now on." he says in a teasing way, nodding his head at you. "C'mon, I got a way for us both to be happy, yeah?" he says, eyes moving around the space as he reached down and took your hand, around the corner of the house. 

"You're not dragging me out here to kill me are you?" you whisper with roaming eyes before you see a small stone staircase come into view between the front of the house and the back garden. "Ah. You've been here before I see." you say with a nod as he lets go of your hand as he helps you down a small ledge to the hidden pathway. 

"I've known James for a while. Been to his parties before, had to sneak out a few times, so 'at's how I know about this, yeah?" he says with a mischievous grin, taking your hand as he shuts the small wooden door behind you, entering the warm, plain beige hallway, lit by small dim sconces.

He leads you through back hallways, similar to the ones in your home. He lifts and guides you through rooms filled with nothing, rooms filled with only books, one particularly creepy one with a single chair and rug left in it, leaving you feeling uneasy until you pass the last room to get to the main hallway, which has two people rutting away in a chair in the corner as you share an apologetic glance before you've both popped out into a hallway. This part of the house just has a low hum of the party, somewhere in the maze of halls.

"I bet what led to you having to sneak out of those tunnels was proper fun wasn't it?" he turns to see you with a rather childlike look on your face, slightly flushed cheeks rounded out in an almost bashful smile. 

"How could you guess?" he gives a laddish grin. 

"I've snuck out of similar ones myself." you say with a chuckle, fluffing your hair as you regain your proper posture as you walk next to him down the hall, you round a corner and are met with the outskirts of the party. People holding hands and running past the two of you, someone crying in a room with a pulled to door, boys in groups like vultures, picking off prey and laughing at their own jokes. You see the glitzy girls with their fast-moving cocaine-fueled feet in a ballroom, you feel that familiar tug to join them. "We've both got schmoozing to do, cheri. We'll find our way back to each other when we want to leave?" you ask in a polite and charming way that tells him you've already slipped back into your old socialite ways as you give a little wave to someone across the room and give a huge flash of a smile to go with it. 

"See ya then, luv." he says with an equally charming smile, both of you warming up your skills on each other before departing.   
\---  
You find the light bubbling alcohol first and sip away as you find a small group of girls to infiltrate, having complimented ones dress and now you're sitting atop an unmanned piano, chatting with the other pretty rich girls, letting yourself be that girl again for a moment. 

He's belly laughing with old schoolmates, they are lamenting on the loss of bachelorhoods, taking over their father's businesses and what they would do to the women in the room if they weren't married, some who were going to do it anyway. It's all the most familiar of discussions for him, and he has no problem partaking in the ramblings of men less enthusiastic about their life choices than he was in situations like these. His eyes move over the crowd subconsciously as he finds himself telling another tale of a job in an entertaining manner that lets the other men live vicariously through him. They thought if they'd just made a few simple decisions differently they could've been in his place. The power, the respect, the appeal of the thought of the money and women you could have and what wild things you could do with each if they had it all flicker behind their eyes. 

You'd seen him hypnotize groups before, men and women just the same. He thinks the same of you as you notice you're within eyeshot of each other. He sees your crossed legs, hair falling to one side in a grand frame of your face as the women giggle and gently nudged each other as you told your stories in a much more intimate and quiet way than he did. You see his thick neck bulging as he speaks loudly. The men all sip with unblinking eyes, his words making them sigh and drink more because they clearly lacked that certain, je ne sais quios he had had in abundance.   
\------  
You're both more than a few drinks in, still more sober than anyone else in the house it would seem by the deviant behavior happening out in the open at this point in the evening. Corners in every room full of rolling and writhing individuals without shame whether the effect is from sex or drugs, and at this point his money was on both for all parties. 

The lads he had been speaking with had been picked off one by one, some by wives, some by mistresses, and he was left making his way through the bustling bodies, eyes looking for you as he's not seen you in quite some time. He follows the music as he assumes you'll be near it, singing, dancing or both. He turns into the ballroom, the sweat from the drug-fueled movement hanging heavy and dense in the air despite the extravagant height of the ceilings. The boom of the band in the back of the room hits his chest as it picks up again, eyes narrowed and searching until they land on you. 

Your hair has fallen down completely, he can see how as you flip it and spin, it rising and falling as you command, always putting on a show for anyone watching. The swing of the horns moves your hips and shoulders, your face flushed and smiling, eyes bright and full of sparkle as he can tell you're enjoying yourself. Your skin glistens in the glowing lights of the room, the chandeliers low, the wall scones burning, fighting against the black of the night outside the tall and sweating windows, dripping from the heat of the bodies within. Your feet seem to favor the piano, as you're spun around between a small grouping of men and women, all laughing and dancing with each other. He first sees you with another man, hands clasped together, feet moving in time, and quicker than he knew his own could manage even if he did know the moves. Your feet kick up, knees bent as your bits bounce in your dress, still distracting to him despite the almost blurred visage of your legs and feet underneath you. Your hands rise above your head in exclamation as you sing along with the words of the song. You don't seem to mind as the man's face gets close to yours, as your heads both fall back in laughter to the cheeky lyrics of the song. He throws you across the group with a swing of his arm and you land softly, gracefully against a wall. Your nose scrunches jovially and you take a woman by the hand, spinning her out with you as she blushes. His eyes narrow as he sees your hand reach around to her lower back, holding her hips close to yours, chests pressed against each other with a sly smile on your face. The girl bites her lip and bats her lashes at you as you beam down at her. He'd swear you'd looked at him in such a way before, perhaps even mimicking the way he likes to pull you towards him when he has impure thoughts on his mind. Your dance partner warms up quickly, and who wouldn't being in the crosshairs of that smile. You take the lead, taking on the role of the man, pulling her back to your chest, hands out and clasped, another at her hip, moving both yours in tandem as his eyebrow raises at the action. It's clear this wasn't the first time you'd handled a woman in such a way and if his growing suspicions were correct, the soft speaking of how wild you'd been in the past lingering in his head now, he wonders if the role of man isn't something you rather liked playing when it came to being with another woman. He shakes his head and lets out a little laugh to himself, taking another drink. You were a prize lover and he supposes it made sense for a seductress such as yourself to be able to tame anything that came your way. What an unstoppable force of indulgence you were. 

You leave the girl breathless, a more than friendly kiss to the cheek as you move her into the arms of the man you'd been dancing with before. You slink back, taking a long drink of clear liquid. You wipe your brow with your forearm, taking a few deep breaths and he sees a moment to intervene. 

"'Ello, luv." he coos as he approaches. Your already rapidly rising and falling chest and flushed skin make it easy to hide how handsome you find him as you take him in before he reaches your side. Your smile shifts slightly as he approaches and it does not go unnoticed to him. His jacket gone, the first few buttons undone on his shirt, and who could blame him in the humidity of the room. His necklaces sit in that masculine nest of chest hair that rises up before breaking for the space of that thick spread neck before beginning again with his untamed beard. 

"So nice of you to find me just as I was getting tired, darling." you say with a soft charming laugh. 

"Well you's been movin' so fast I couldn't very well cut in before such a time, could I?" he grins, leaning in for a polite kiss to the cheek that you welcome with the cute scrunching of your face. 

"I'm just delighted I can keep up without chemical intervention still." you say in a self-deprecating sort of way, your finger tapping one nostril so he is sure to understand your meaning. 

"Well I'm delighted you're without chemical intervention tonight as well, luv." he says, arm moving to your lower back as you stand side by side, you fanning your face with one hand. 

"You are?" your brow lowers slightly as your face turns to his. 

"I am." he nods. "I'm not much a supporter of it if I'm being honest." he says matter of factly.

"Hmph." you say with a thoughtful nod, never having considered his opinion on such a thing. 

"Despite the rare celebratory drinking as in tonight, and the jovial wine for rituals I don't indulge in such things meself. Don't like me mind to be altered in such a way." he shakes his head, expression not one of judgment.

"Well you'll be even happier because this is water, believe it or not." you say with a playful snort, raising your glass as if to toast him. "What I'm more concerned with right now, is you reaching the point in the evening where you're willing to dance with me." you grin up at him.

"Indeed I have reached it." he says proudly. You perk up with a bounce, posture straightening out again in anticipation. 

Lucky for the both of you a less hectic and demanding song comes along, you set your drinks down and let him take the lead, not something you were accustomed to. 

Your hair bounces about your face, framing it in matching softness as your enchanting smile doesn't leave the entire time he has his hands on you. Your feet don't skip and jump like they had previously, but you do allow your hips to become suggestively close, as you spin and switch between your back to his chest and face to face. You're doing most of the moving and you don't mind in the least, but you certainly wouldn't put down the moves he was giving in the slightest. The way his hands are tense and certain against your body make a familiar sort of ache start to rise within you. 

You're deep in your own mind, enjoying the drops of sweat from his brow dripping to your bare shoulders as his face leans in close to your neck, feeling him move in tandem with you, reminding you far too much of your time spent together in bed and you just accept that he's making you wet just by being near you. The song ends far too soon, you spin in his arms, placing a hand on his chest. 

"I'm going to melt if we stay out here, darling. I need an open window and a smoke babes." you say, taking a deep breath and patting him before moving away. 

"Then let's find ya just that." he declares with a nod, taking your hand and leading you out of the ballroom and to a hallway full of doors. 

After many failed attempts at finding an empty room he succeeds, shutting the door behind you both and moving to open the window against the far wall. You light a cigarette and lean against a dresser sat by the window. You groan as the breeze hits you, cooling you instantly. 

"Fuck that's nice innit?" he says unbuttoning another button on his shirt, fanning it across his flushed skin.

"Like heaven." you say quietly, exhaling smoke out of the window. "Hotter than Hades out there." you declare with a smile. He nods and grunts in agreement, both cooling off as the sheer fabric of the curtains moves gently from the breeze. You finish your cigarette and extinguish it, looking him over, your mind quickly moving to far less innocent actions as you've now cooled to lava from magma. 

"Your rum has made me feel some sort of way tonight, Solomons." you say quietly. "What is is you say it's for again? Was it fun and fucking?" your eyes move to his, your face not moving with it, the intent clear behind them. 

"It is, sweetheart." a sly grin slowly appears across his lips.

"We've had fun tonight, haven't we Alfie?" his raises his eyes to yours, a sexy smirk making its way across his lips. "How's about we get the full use of what you and that rum of yours inside me can do?" you give that closed mouth smile that told him you were up to trouble. 

"I take it you're ready to leave then?" he says with a chuckle.

"No." you say with a lilt, licking your lips slowly. 

He gives you a look with a tilt of his head. "Here?"

"I'm feeling more than a bit amorous tonight darling and I was hoping you'd indulge me in a fantasy since the occasion has fallen right into my lap." 

"It involve you fallin' onto mine?" he kids. 

"But of course." you purr.

"What do you want me to do to you, dirty girl?" his hands grab your bum.

"It is as if you already know." you let out a deep, rumbling chuckle. "You've gone and turned me on tonight and now I want you to do something about it." you say with a little shake of your head, giving him big eyes, looking up at him, purposely trying to be as alluring as possible to egg him on. "Shag me here. Now. At this party. I want you to lift up my dress and try to make me scream so all those people out there might imagine the nasty things you're doing to me." you run your fingertip across his bottom lip, his tongue flicks out to graze it making you hum as a wave of arousal comes over you at the sensation. He pushes against you, one hand moving your hair off your shoulders, snaking into it to hold it taut at the nape, his teeth biting at your jaw as you spoke, placing kisses with needful moans across your throat. "I want you to tell me what a filthy woman I am for wanting such a thing." He pulls back to raise a brow at you, licking his lips.

"Mmmm." he hums, eyes moving across your face under heavy half lids. "You are exceptionally bad for wanting something like this from me, pet. Fucking magnificent and fucking filthy you are, eh?" He pulls back your head, both hands in your hair as he pulls is back slowly.

Your eyes flutter shut, your lips part. "C'mon then." you snarl your lip, nodding your head once in a taunt as even with your head in his control your eyes still ooze power with a glance. Your shoulders squared against him, a direct challenge he answers with actions and not words. 

A rumble from deep in his gut rolls over you, making you tense before he makes his move. His fast and strong hands reach down to grab you through the thin fabric of your dress before landing a hard slap to your bum, grabbing a handful of you before it could even sting. His hand yanks your head to the side, lips feverishly moving against your skin, still glistening with sweat. 

He keeps his hand in your hair as he stalks over to the bed, dragging you along beside him.He pushes you onto the bed, your bum hitting the edge. His hand snakes up your front and to your chin where his fingers firmly grasp it. 

"You know as well as I do that that door isn't fucking locked, Genevieve." he sounds threatening and it makes you take a deep inhale at the sound and the feeling that it makes spread down your spine. "Anyone could come in here and witness what I'm doing to you." he speaks slower, a growing growl in his throat. His hand moves up your thigh, a pinch here, a tiny slap there on it's way to your soaked center. "You were so worried about your reputation before weren't ya? Now look at you." he snarls. "Asking me to fuck you with people just on the other side of that door that could hear." his fingers move quickly, expecting to be blocked by the silk barrier of your pants but when he finds nothing but the soft hair between your thighs against his palm his hisses. "Fuck me." he spits out. "And bare-assed in public. You are a dirty little thing, innit ya?" his fingers move to tease you, the middle one running over the arch of your clit. "And always so fuckin' wet." he moans, crashing his mouth into yours. You moan back, you don't reach for him since he's holding you, still enticing him to take it further. To make you do what he wanted. He must be starting to learn he hasn't been anywhere near as rough with you as you can handle. His hand retreats from under your skirt and goes to your wrist, shoving your fingers in the front of his trousers. "Take my cock out." he orders in a quiet, low and eerily calm tone that makes you swoon at him, you obey what he asks. You shoot your eyes to his, not losing contact and showing raised brows feigning innocence, asking what the detour was about. "You wanna act like a dirty girl, you're gonna get treated like one, yeah?" Your fingers work quickly despite how distracting his lips are so tauntingly close to yours. Groaning and pressing into you as you managed to undo his trouser fastenings and relieve his magnificence from its confines. Your lips pucker as his grip tightens on your face. "That's it, now." he exhales, one hand moving along his length in smooth strokes as the other grasps his bits. "Now suck it." he releases your jaw roughly. 

You don't expect this but the way your muscles tense between your legs, there lies the proof that you love it. You slide off the bed and to the floor to kneel before him. You give one slow blink of lash, keeping those big gorgeous eyes on his, as you take him into your mouth without so much as a scolding glance. You're following instructions, you close your eyes to focus your hands and mouth and tongue all together as he huff and puffs above you. Your wet, sucking and slurping are enough to make one of his hands go to your hair. But when you let out a moan around his cock as your work him in response to his hand tightly fisted in your long, dark curls he tugs at you and you suck harder, your brow furrowing for just a moment, but this show of defiance for the sake of you wanting to continue keeping his prick in your delicious mouth makes his balls tighten and he pulls you off forcefully. A string of saliva connects your lips to his bell end, eyes as wide open as your pink mouth. 

"Fighting to keep sucking my cock?" his voice is low but it does not change the strong wave of chills that turns to wetness down your body. He pulls you up, and rather roughly by your hair. "I knew you were fucking filthy..." he purrs at you, fingers holding your chin as he leans in close to your face. Your eyes are wide and batting but not reading scared, just very, very into what he was doing. He could tell by the way your chest was rising and falling. If you liked this, were asking for this, seeming to be willing to experiment tonight he simply follows his beastly instincts. He releases your chin and gives your cheek a firm but still light smack. The smile on your face could've been the sexiest thing he's seen from you yet. Biting your tongue between your teeth with a hum of approval. He smacks you harder this time, enough to move your face just slightly. Your face turns, you look to the direction he's hit you in for just a moment, enough to make him wonder if he crossed a line. 

Your swing your head back, eyes glaring up at him from under your brow, your mouth open, your tongue pushing against your teeth as you exhale a breathy chuckle. "Go on." you purr from between clenched teeth. He growls and moves you so quickly by the back of the head from standing, to face first, bent over the edge of the bed. He holds you by the back of your neck, his hands curling up the edges of your dress, jerking it over your hips. He gives a hard slap to your ass. You jolt but quickly squirm under the chills it leaves after. And another. And another. The last he hears a slight gasp, and not wanting to hurt you before he even gets inside of you, he gives the now red flesh a rest. His thoughts turn to your sweet, dripping lips, framed between two soft thighs. "Arch your back." he demands. You oblige, as soon as you do you feel his fingers sliding between your lips, two sinking into you as you moan into the fluffy blanket on the bed. "Don't even have to touch you to get you dripping do I sweetheart?" he asks rhetorically, withdrawing his fingers, another firm slap to your arse, making it wobble in the wake of it. 

So when he hears, "No." in a weak and lustful from you he groans with need, the hardest slap of the night to your arse cheek, a high pitched gasp from your mouth as he grabs your shoulders to hold you down.

"Acting like such a little slag and then admitting to it as well." his tone makes your eyes roll back, you thank the powers that be for sending you a man that can read non-verbal cues and take instruction. He sinks into you and you go limp for a few seconds. 

"Oh fuck." you weakly whisper, your hands grabbing the sheets beneath you. 

"To ask to be treated like the filthy fucking girl you are." he wastes no time, pressing your hips so hard against the bed, pounding into you, holding your shoulders to assure neither you or he went anywhere. One hand gathers your hair, wrapping it around his fist before pulling it back towards him. "C'mere." he orders, not giving you a choice. Your back is arched, your weight now on your hands as he pounds into you from behind. Heavy, hard slaps, punctuated with the subdued moans on your exhales. "This what you fucking wanted?" he hisses in your ear and your shudder around him. 

"Yes." you helplessly moan out. The intoxicating stretch of him feels too good with you being this turned on. You feel yourself throbbing, aching as he draws you closer, overwhelming you to make you succumb to him. 

He leans forward, hand now clasped over your mouth as he's pulled you up by the arm, holding it behind you. Now pumping into you with a force that makes your tits bounce wildly. "You better shut that cock sucking mouth of yours." he growls into your ear and you let out an unfiltered moan against his hand, eyes rolled back into your head. "Unless you want someone to come in here and see me fucking buried in your cunt." He uncovers your mouth just long enough to slap your arse again before returning to stifle your cry. "What fucking reputation would you have then love? Letting a man like me fuck you like this? I wouldn't be the only one who knew what a little tart you were then, eh?" 

You're praising everything he's doing, all muffled from behind his hand as you're being tenderized by his hips. The cliche of Lady being taken by a criminal comes to mind and you find yourself getting off to the idea and you let out another moan, growing from deep in your gut, being fucked out of you by that thick cock of his.

"A Lady wouldn't allow herself to get fucked in such a way, Genevieve." he whispers. The way he says your name, brings another wave of pleasure over you, fuck you were close. He was going to run his mouth all the way to the finish line and take you with him. "But you are not a fucking Lady. Are you?" he growls. You shake your head back and forth and he roars into your ear, hitting you like a piston as your breathing starts to pick up, he knows you're close. "What are you then?" he groans, he knows you're close and he cannot last much longer, talking to you like this, you reaction to it in such a way, god it was intoxicating. 

"Filthy." you cry out, he clasps his hand over it again. He lets out the sexiest laugh you've ever heard. 

"Ah, fuck Gen." he loses his composure for a moment. You are a handful of thrusts away from losing all composure. He feels your thighs tense first, he knows he's done his job well good when they start to shake. "That's it." he thrusts and it inside you as you come, holding himself there for a few seconds, moaning louder than you had the entire time. "Fucking take this cock you wicked thing." he barks, you're now being used and pulled and pounded by him, a useless mess seizing against him. 

"Give it to me." you huff out, your breath catching as your take in a shaky inhale still shaking against him. 

"Fuck, I'm gonna come." he roars, a hard slap to your ass cheek again. 

"Give it to me." you repeat, much harsher, much more demanding as you focus on the feel of his skin against yours, fingertips with bruising force against your hips, the hard convulsing now passed, leaving you a sensitive mess that was still getting fucked, leaving you so needy you'd let him spit in your mouth if he'd tried. What he did to you, the way he made you feel, you wanted every bit of him in that moment. Every ounce. 

He pauses a moment in his mind, he didn't like to make a habit of coming inside you but if you were asking for it who was he to deny you? "You want me in this little velvet cunny, love?"

"Yes." you moan. "Give me every last fuckin drop of you, Solomons." you growl, pushing back on him. You'd gotten yourself so worked up at the idea of him taking and marking you in such a way that you might just come again with the way his moans are starting to sound more guttural, his fingers squeezing tighter against your flesh. 

"Fuck!" he shouts, grinding his teeth. Fuck you felt like heaven and fuck if he didn't want anything else but to come inside you at this moment. "'At's what you'll fucking get innit?" he hisses. "I'm going to fill that little cunny and you'll be walking out of this party with me dripping down your thighs." 

"Yes, you fucking take it, Alfie." you praise, pounding back on him, your head turned to see him.

"Fuckin' hell," he shudders, and you hum and moan, a bitten lip and a blissed out smile on your face as he moves to short, hard thrusts. "Yes fuckin' take it all..." he groans through clenched teeth. His moans turn to gravel in his mouth, grainy and dragging on. His breathing becomes more labored and less moany.

You're currently humming contently. He releases his grip, moving instead to wrap his arms around your waist so you don't collapse. You move your hands up his forearms, running to rest over his. "You alright, darling?" you ask quietly with a smile he can't see. His forehead moved to between your shoulders. 

"I've never been better." he grunts and you answer with a chuckle then a heavy sigh that relaxes you completely. You pat his hands and he releases you. You turn, looking up at him, sweating and disheveled, your favorite visage of him. You fix his hair, tucking the longer pieces back, smoothing it down. "I don't recall the last time I've had that much fun." a grin comes across his face now, the flush in his cheeks making you smile. You move to put him back into his pants, buttoning him back, fussing over his clothes until it looks like nothing ever happened. "Ya sweetheart, stop ya fussin'." he scolds with a laugh. "I call ya a slag and then ya fix me up?" his smile carries over his whole face, relaxed and you knew yours looked much the same. "Ya making' me feel proper guilty for doin' so right now." 

"Don't. You were fantastic. Quick learner, you are." you praise, voice low and relaxed, eyes perhaps a touch tired now, but you'd hardly notice from the glow you have. You move to fix your skirt, he steps back to give you room, his legs not wanting to work at their best selves still. You pull your fingers out from under your skirt. You both watch them, sticky with the both of you. "Really did fill me up didn't you?" you say with the most wicked smile. He isn't prepared for when you start sucking the mess off your fingers with unwavering eye contact as your bejeweled fingers slid out of your mouth, tongue lapping away at them.

"Fuck me..." he whispers, face looking drunk all over again, watching your tongue lick him up and your lips suck him off your fingers. His glazed eyes give away the effect the action had on him. What good fortune for him to be bedding a woman who was certainly a descendent of Aphrodite herself, he thought. 

"You get off on that as well?" you smirk. 

There's that bloody smile again of yours that makes his cock twitch. "Well a man like me can't very well not take pride in his work now can he?" he grins, eyes raking over you. "And I'll admit I hadn't given it entirely too much thought before." he shrugs, now fixing your hair for you, like you did his. "But if what you say is true of us 'n our power complex's it really innit that far fetched, is it?" he gives you a soft laugh, you watch his satisfied, easy going expression as his big fingers run down the straps of your dress. The size difference made it seem as though he might just snap the strap without meaning it. Ugh, you didn't need to go thinking about how big and strong he was and go and get yourself turned on again. You certainly didn't need to put your lower half through that again so soon.


	38. Do I Have To Talk You Into It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song for the chapter is Do I Have To Talk You Into It by Spoon

It's a lovely late summer evening, you'd hustled your way through your morning meetings in London, deciding to skip the shopping you'd planned and call it a day early. After the week you'd had you deserved it. You were currently sinking into a bubble bath. Eyes shut, head on a towel on the edge of the tub, feet stuck out of the bubbles, moving them to the beat of the music from your record player. You planned on soaking, getting just slightly tarted up for dinner and making the most of having Alfie home. You planned on slithering up him like a snake once the maids were out of sight and you both had a glass of wine in your study. You let out a heavy sigh, imagining how that encounter might go. You were aching for the touch of the man after the busy week you'd had, feeling desperate in your need for release at his hand. Your delicious thoughts are interrupted by Claire.

"There's a call for you in your study." she states plainly. You turn your head to look at her.

"I'm done for the week, dear, tell them to try again on Monday." you say with a sigh.

"It's Palmer." she says with a darker inflection.

"Fucking hell." you murmur, shoulders slumping. "Fuck." you bark with a bratty kick of your feet on the edge of the tub, sending some water over the edge. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" you throw a small tantrum, hands hitting the surface of the water, trying to satisfy the need to lash out in annoyance at the news. "I'll be there in a god damned minute." you mutter, rising from the tub.

Palmer was possibly the richest man in England, and one of your top clients. But as usual, with old money, his habits and behaviors were a bit...odd. You enjoyed how well he paid, the gifts and recommendations of you he gave to other old rich men that gave you a substantial portion of your income. The only catch really, besides the odd grope from time to time was that when he called...you answered. And not just by telephone. If he called upon you, you had to drop everything and go. You knew the night you'd planned for yourself wasn't going to go as you'd hoped. You take a few deep breaths, giving yourself a few slaps to the face to rid yourself of any annoyance you might have in your voice as you stare at the phone before you pick it up. 

Just as you suspected, he was calling upon you. Being summoned for the weekend to be wined and dined and discuss plans of action, whatever they may be. You chirp in agreement like a little bird for him, fingers tapping against your desk, a familiar thudding, a thought always in the back of your mind when working, you're doing this for the money. 

You conclude the call, you were to arrive in the morning at his country estate. This meant you had to leave very soon. 

"Aggie!" you shout, letting out a heavy sigh, your hand running down your face as you turn to head out of the room. She appears like a spirit, as she always tended to do. 

"Yes, dear?" she says, her hands being wiped on her apron. 

"When Aflie gets home could you send him to my room? I'll be leaving tonight for Palmer's and I'd like to speak to him before I leave." you give her a half smile, you know that the pat she gives to your arm is meant to be supportive. You doing things you didn't want to, allowed this house and her to live in comfort and safety. But she hated that you had to do these things, like answer to any man unwillingly, but she loved you for what you sacrificed of yourself. 

"Of course Gen. You need any help packing your things?" she asks with such a sweet tone.

"Oh no, Ag's don't worry about it, I've got it. Just bring me my dinner in my room as soon as it's ready, I'll need to eat before the journey." you both nod and you drag your feet to your bedroom.   
\-----  
You've finished getting ready, your dresses to wear laid out with matching pieces on your bed, your travel trunk open at the foot of it. You're talking to yourself, considering what to take and where you might be taken, not wanting to be unprepared. 

He's watching you sway your hips as you walk around the bed in your silk dressing gown, arms crossed and your thumbnail being chewed by your teeth. Your hair is styled, makeup is done, the smell of your perfume travels through the air to his nose and takes a deep breath, opening his eyes again when the click of your heels across the floor catches his attention. 

"What's all this now, eh?" you hear Aflie's voice come from behind you. You turn your face and shoulders in his direction with a smile before setting the jewelry in your hands down. 

"We walking into women's room's without knocking first now?" you say with a smirk and raised eyebrows, flipping your hair behind your shoulder.

"Aggie said you were callin' on me so I thought you were expectin' me." he says in defense of himself, fingers still holding the edge of the door. 

"Come in and shut the door behind you, darling." you say with a sigh.

"Something the matter, luv?" he asks, doing as he was told. You walk towards each other, your stride certain and his the opposite. 

"Not in any serious way, no." you shake your head. 

"You goin' somewhere?" he inquires, hand motioning to the bed behind you.

"Yes, that's why I called you in here." you scratch your head, turning to look at the bed for a moment. "I've been summoned by a client for the weekend and I'll be back Monday I suspect." you tone isn't supportive of the statement.

"You don't seem happy about this." he says, chin dipping lower as he closes the space between you, his hands in his pockets.

"I didn't know I'd be doing this until this afternoon and it throws a wrench into my plans for the entire weekend." you pause, chewing the inside of your cheek. "But more importantly my previous plans for this evening." you nod, looking him up and down, he wasn't sure of the intention of the glance. "So no...I'm not happy." you give him a more disappointed expression. 

"I'm guessin' this is someone who won't let ya come another time, eh?"

"Your guesses are always good, aren't they?" you sigh, moving back to your bed, he follows but keeps his distance. "If he calls, I go. Didn't bother me as much when I first started working with him, but it does currently. Feels a bit...degrading now instead of empowering since I'm already established."

"He ain't makin' ya do nothin' ya don't want to is he?" his tone more concerned. 

"No, no. He likes to show me off like a little doll out on the town and I smile and get my bum pinched but fucking hell does he pay well." you shake your head, eyes distant. 

"Fuckin' better making you look all disappointed 'n that like 'is."

You can't help but smile at his grumpy face. "He's one of the richest men in the country, Fie." you shake your head. "Otherwise I wouldn't be doing this still." you shrug. "But money is money I suppose."

"'At's true. This might make me sound a bit dull to ask but I know all the richest men in England and I ain't heard none of them talk about you before."

"Well, I do work in secrecy and have more than one alias. I'm a woman who wears many hats, darling." you grin and move your eyes from his for a moment. "But you certainly know him. You've worked with him before." you nod. 

"How would you know 'at?" his eyes narrow.

"He likes to talk when he's drunk." you smirk. "I know he works with the Oddfellows. And I know you've made deals with them."  
His posture straightens, eyes still narrowed and questioning you.   
"I'm not some fucking spy Alfie, calm down." you give him a huff of a laugh. "I didn't know you when he spoke of you to me. And that's far in the past now so you can certainly know my knowledge of such a thing is no threat to you." you say in a comforting way.

"Mmph." he says with a grunt, his face less suspicious. "The secrets in that head of yours Genevieve." he wags his finger at you.

"You have no idea, Alfie." you say with a mischievous smile.  
\--------  
You're posed to his suggestion on a fainting couch. The dress he'd given you to wear shining in the low light of the room, the night creeping in through the windows. He's decided he's taking up painting since the last time you saw him and after many compliments and comparisons to goddesses and heroines, he said he'd like to try to paint you. You gotten a new dress, to sit on your arse and keep him away from you for hours? You accept with a smile. 

"I heard you're working in London now." he muses.

"Yes. I've grown quite fond of the city. Despite its low points, the opportunity there is ripe." you say with your ladylike softness that he seems to be preferring this trip. 

"Ripe like those berries you're hocking now?" he says without a change in experience.

"Yes, actually. I've found working with the earth to be much more rewarding than I ever expected it to be. I rarely get my hands dirty anymore with it, it's a successful business at this point."

"Well, you still are getting your hands dirty aren't you?"

"I wouldn't be here if I weren't, would I?" you smirk. 

"I've heard you've been mingling amongst the underbelly of London."

"I did very literally mean getting my hands dirty."

"Seems so...working with the Jews, I've heard."

"There's really just the one of them."

"I'm familiar." he moves his eyes to yours. "You shouldn't be bothering yourself with such a caliber of person, you know."

"Not everyone can be as business savvy and wealthy as you sir."

"That's true but you know I've heard someone that matters more than Solomons isn't too happy with this fact."

Your jaw clenches and your skin breaks out in goosebumps. "Oh, he's heard has he?" 

"I'm very surprised you've not heard from him yet. I've heard some nasty rumors about him over the years."

"They're probably all true. I had the same thought honestly." your eyes lose focus to gaze far away beyond the walls of the room, in the direction of the cold, stone home that resembled the heart of the poor excuse for a man that lived within it. "He didn't have you call me up to threaten me did he?"

"You know I don't do such things to people who make me as much money as you do, dear."

"Good to hear it."

"Lucky for you I find my power in money and not in Titles."

"And that's why we get along so well." you give a convincing smile. 

"Is it?" he hums, a subtle smile, the best you'll get from him sober, comes across his face. 

"Since I'd rather speak of money, might I make some inquiries of my own sir?" you ask politely.

"Yes, carry on." he says with a wave of his brush.

"Since we spoke of the possibility of me going egg hunting in the not so distant future I thought you might help me find one I'm looking for personally."

"I don't know of any on the market right now. The wife would have it if it was." he scoffs.

"I thought this one wouldn't be on the market any longer, it was stolen, but I had intentions on stealing it and now I want it more than ever because of this fact."

"Your emotionality towards beautiful things does surely help fuel your brilliance, dear."

"Thank you, sir" you smile. "It was stolen out of Hayworth's in London by some Italians and I haven't been able to hear a thing of it since. It's the Rose Trellis, so I know someone has had to snatch her up as lovely as she is."

"I do love how you refer to your treasures as female." he nods.

"Because they're beautiful and otherworldly." you muse. 

"I believe I might know who has your girl then, Genevieve." 

Your eyes widen. "Might I persuade you to tell me?"

"You might." he nods, his eyes moving back to yours. You don't like the look behind them but you sold your soul a long time ago so what would another thing you didn't want to do be to you at this point?  
\-----------------------  
The business of actions for answers wasn't something you were unfamiliar with at all but this trip had left you feeling depleted. You shouldn't be surprised at yourself, doing morally questionable things in the name of revenge but what Palmer had you do to earn your information this time left you with a bad taste in your mouth. 

As soon as the door to your house shuts behind you, signaling a true close to the long weekend you'd had, you give a big stretch, squeaking and yawning and groaning with wild abandon. When you rub your face, taking a few staggered steps forward and open your eyes, there's Alfie, leaning against the entryway to the dining room. You let out a loud and contented sigh involuntarily at the sight. He walks over to you without a word, his hand brushing your fussy hair away from your face, cupping your cheek as his furrowed brow looks over you. You close your eyes and lean your head into his hand. You can't help it, a welcome comfort was what you needed the most right now. 

Still wordless to your surprise, after looking into your slightly sunken and less than bright eyes he takes you into his arms. You're a bit confused but the warmth, a touch that was actually welcome leads you to put your face against his chest. You feel his chin atop your head, big hands splayed and stroking against your back. 

"Did something happen while I was away?" you ask after a heavy sigh.

"From the looks of you something did." he answers flatly, you feel the tension in his back under your fingers. 

You don't answer and he feels a twisting in his gut. An odd sense of relief from his knowing without words, and a more familiar sense of worry from the same thing.

"Nothing here no. It's always dull when you're gone as you could imagine." you feel the sigh with the rise and falling of his chest.   
"You gonna be seein' him again?"

"When he calls." you answer weakly, feeling an odd pang of guilt. 

"You don't gotta tell me what happened but I'd like to express my distaste for you working with him."

"The taste for it doesn't matter." you say softly. "And I'm certain it's not as bad as whatever you've conjured up in your head."

"It's bad enough to make your eyes look such a way."

You put your hands to his chest, moving away from him. "You have no idea the things I've had to do to get where I am that make my eyes dull and dark." You see his face wince. How could he be surprised by such a statement? "I'm a woman in a man's world Alfie...did you think I've just batted my eyelashes and gotten everything I've ever wanted on the first try?" you ask, he hears the touch of offense in your voice. "Because nothing could be farther from the truth."

"I'm a Jew, sweetheart, believe me I know, yeah? But my knowing what the oppressed have to do to get up in the world is what makes me hate seeing you with this look on your face. The knowing, yeah? That's why I can tell he's crossed a line just by lookin' at ya. I've seen it in me own face in the mirror after weekends like yours. And 'ats why I don't like it." his face isn't hard, isn't angry. His hooded eyes are calm as they meet yours. 

"Doesn't matter if you like it, Alfie." you sigh and finally separate.   
"Doesn't matter if I like it." you add, turning to head to your room. 

"Well that's where you're wrong Gen." he says as you step away. You hear him start to follow and you do not stop yourself or him. 

He waits until he's shut the door behind him to your room before he speaks again. "Now this might piss ya off, but I'm willin' to risk it to get it off me chest." he gruffs, you plop down on the bed, removing your shoes.

"I can hear it in your voice Alfie, just get it out, darling. I'm listening," you say with a half smile, showing no animosity as you know even if he does make you mad it's not on purpose. "Just get these buttons for me first if you wouldn't mind." you ask softly, turning your back towards him, now sitting next to you on the bed.  
His fingers work as he speaks.

"I think you've been holding yourself back, luv." he says quietly, slowly. You rise and give him a soft glance to continue, moving to your dresser. 

"My changing won't bother you will it?" you ask from under your lashes, fingers slipping under the shoulders of your dress. 

He shakes his head and motions with his hand for you to go on. "I think, and I like to amuse myself that I know you a bit at this point, yeah? I think as it happens to most oppressed who have to fight for themselves, that you've stagnated in your mindset."

Your eyes narrow, he sees you in the mirror of your open armoire door, you looked thoughtful but not angry as you let your dress fall to the floor. 

"It happened to me and I don't want that happenin' to you." he shakes his head, eyes moving over your body with a sigh, trying to keep his mind about him as he looked over you for any signs of abuse. "You're brilliant, truly luv but you've had to fight more than I have for what ya got and I think going so hard for so long has clouded your view of your worth now."

You bend to take off your stockings, he watches your delicate fingers roll down the slinky fabric and grasp and toss them into a basket. You look up suddenly, grateful to find his eyes looking at your face. "I'm listening." you say with a soft blink. If you were to be in the same business as him, it would be daft of you to not listen to the free advice. You turn your back to him, starting to take off your undergarments as he turns his head while you do so. 

"I just think you oughtta start considering sayin' no to some of these men."

"I don't blindly agree to everything they say and ask of me." you say in defense of yourself, still not angry as he see's your body lit brilliantly from one side before you slip the nightgown over yourself and move back to him.

"I ain't sayin' that. You're smart mate, that's not what I'm sayin', right? I'm sayin' you don't gotta jump when they say jump no more."

You move to sit next to him on the bed, hands moving slowly to gather your hair and begin braiding it, your face still relaxed, eyes moving over the room with no real focus. 

"You've got a real business now, yeah? You've got small armies at your disposal with the friends you've made. And no, I don't know ya books or nothin' of the sort but surely it ain't necessary anymore to take every job that comes your way." his hand moves to your back and you sit up in surprise. A soft smile rests on his face as he rubs it in circles, amused by your reaction. 

"It's not." you look to him with big eyes. 

"I think you've gotten your mind stuck in a state of desperation, luv. It's natural for people like us to default to such a state when at one time we had next to nothin' and had to bleed out and work ourselves to the bone for even just scraps, dreaming of having a seat at the big table."

You look down in thought, he sees the contemplation on your face. 

"All's I'm trying to say, yeah? Is that you don't gotta fight and scratch and claw and get used and say yes when ya wanna say no, no more Genny." He moves his hand to your chin to meet your eyes. "You aren't a little girl that's dreaming of having all this no more." his hand motions to your room. "You're a woman who's got it." he states. "You ain't fightin' for a seat no more, luv. Ya ain't merely surviving off scraps is ya?" he asks, finger giving your chin one tap before withdrawing. "You are the table now Genevieve. You are the multi-course meal and you ain't gotta answer to no one no more." 

After the pitying thoughts you'd had on the long drive home you had worked yourself into a slump, allowing yourself to feel small and like someone that could be used. Even if it was a means to an end for something you wanted. It occurs to you that he is completely right. Everything was yours now. You weren't living off daddy's money, you weren't kissing ass and asking nicely for anything anymore. You'd blinded yourself to be so focused on making it that you hadn't looked up to realize that you had in fact...made it. You felt silly for letting those awful old rich white men make you feel less than. But you forgive yourself because you had been conditioned since birth to kneel to their demands.

Your clear and certain response of "You're right." makes the tension in his chest disappear. He blinks a few times at you, to make sure you weren't being sassy but you sigh and move your eyes back up to his. "Thank you." the corner of your mouth draws back before you lean in to give him a soft kiss on the lips. To say he's surprised by your softness would be an understatement.

"Fuck, Gen." he groans, hand going to the side of your face. "What'd they do to you luv? He went and took the fire from your eyes." he gazes at you with sad eyes, mirroring the look of your own. 

"I'm only embers for now but I'll rage again soon enough." you nod and pat his hand on your face. 

"It's good to hear." he says, giving you a stern nod, hand falling back to the bed. 

"I did get some information out of it though." you say with a lighter-hearted shrug. 

"Oh, you want to share with the class?" he gives you a sweet smile that makes you mirror him again. 

"I'd like your help with it."

"What we doin'? Who we killin'?" he coos.

"I found out who has the egg." you whisper, he sees a spark behind your eyes again and it warms him in a very dangerous way. 

"Oh, Genny...little Magpie, you are." he shakes his head and beams that charm at you, knocking your forehead with his, leaning back to reveal a full smile on your face.


	39. Burnin' For You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter song is Burnin' For You by Blue Oyster Cult

You'd found out the Rose Trellis egg had been bought by a man named Sigmund. You knew Sigmund, you'd worked for him in the past on multiple occasions and you'd never had a problem with him. He was rich but not wealthy, but his wife had very expensive tastes, and he was all about keeping her happy. A quiet man, almost shy and easily intimidated in your experience with him. You had come across Sigmund at a party months ago, even casually inquiring as to whether he had heard of any Faberge floating around in the world. He had said no.

So now you're left with a problem. This made Sigmund a liar. 

Apparently, Alfie, having come across him in the jewelry quarter had asked him about an egg as well. He'd also said no to him. Which meant that Alfie now felt involved, wanting to come with you on the job. He also cited wanting to get the egg as an extra fuck you to Tommy. When you pouted and tried to start explaining you and Tommy had come to an understanding, he interrupted your explanation and told you in no particularly polite way that he didn't give a fuck what Tommy said. The well-intentioned but vengeful man was still well miffed about the argument with Tommy. But who could blame him? 

So you and Alfie plan a job together. Seeing as breaking and entering was your expertise, he defaults to you on most decisions. Getting the layout, scoping the place out, many long nights spent up in Cambridge where Sigmund lived sitting in the back of a car with your notebook taking down your observations. 

You return and sit with Aflie in your bedroom in front of the fire, pacing back and forth in front of the fire, tapping the notebook with your pen, your glasses sliding down your nose as you animatedly talk. His fingers ran absent mindedly, picking at his beard, his eyes narrowed in thought as he stares into the fire as you speak. 

After you finish, he blinks and snaps out of his trance as he feels his weight shift as you sit next to him. You sit cross-legged facing him, notebook in your lap as you listen to what he'd been working on. He'd gotten someone in the house, hired on as muscle, so now you had the complete view of the place. 

"By this hour in two days time, if all goes according to plan, you and I will have our hands on another Faberge egg." you say optimistically, looking out the window with a sigh. That wonderful feeling of an upcoming job, and one with such a magnificent payday with a side serving of revenge for both you and Alfie against Sigmund, Sabini and to only Alfie, Tommy.   
\------  
He's already in the car that you'll both be taking to the job. He has his hard face on tonight, white-knuckled for now, sure to be red later. He watches you come down the hotel steps, in all black and looking as sleek as a cat in form-fitting trousers and long sleeved, high necked top. He lets out a sigh, still being affected by the sight of your form, curved and distracting to his eyes even under the long black coat you wear. Your face, beautiful and bare with your hair pulled back and plaited glows in the light of the sunset. He wasn't even lying to himself about how much he was looking forward to seeing your work tonight. He would try his best to keep his mind on business, which is what this started as. But at this point, it felt more like fun with a monetary pay off at the end. The promise of watching you work your magic with your skilled body, a new unseen and untouched Faberge glinting just out of grasp, he felt excited about work in a way he hadn't been in what could've been years.   
\----  
He's made his way around the house, making contact with his inside man. Returning and sliding back into the car before turning to you. 

"That'd be your cue, Genevieve." he says with a charming smile. 

The energy between the two of you is electric. Both excited, both revved up and full of hunger for payback and a payoff. 

"I'll meet you in inside, Alfie." you say with a smile that matches his in its charming delivery. You take a moment to acknowledge this lump in your throat. This flutter of your heartbeat as you're leaned in towards him, supposed to spin and exit and scurry your way to the house. But instead, in the dark with this look in his eyes, you get distracted for a moment by your heightened emotions. This was supposed to be work, you thought to yourself. But it didn't feel like work. You hold his stare a few fleeting seconds, before making the decision to lean forward and kiss him. 

The part of your brain that usually determines your actions is confused by being overruled by an equally important organ that was currently thumping in your chest in excitement as you're reminded that you don't kiss business partners. You'd just wanted to kiss him though, hadn't you? Simple and complicated as that. You don't press your lips to his for too long, and it isn't particularly sensual, but you felt better after having done it. Holding your face away from his just slightly, you whisper, "For good luck." before you leave the car and move back into cat burglar mode. 

As if he'd needed you to provide more of a distraction tonight. He turns to keep his eyes on you before you melt into the darkness of the night of the new moon. He sits back and blinks, brows moving with his thoughts. So you were kissing on jobs now? With the line being crossed, and very surprisingly by you and not him, he wonders where the line has moved to...or if the line may not exist at all anymore. His second in the driver's seat clears his throat, looking into the rearview mirror at Alfie thinking how funny it was to see the man with such a confused look on his face. 

"She ain't never did that before." Alfie says, lips pouted as he considers one too many things as he looks out the window after meeting the other man's eyes in the mirror. 

"I hope you take no offense but you're going to miss your window if you sit here and think about that kiss for too long." the humor in his voice was evident although he mostly hid it on his face. 

He's back to his angry, drawn brow frown in an instant. "Eh." he groans, lips snarling for a moment before looking around outside and slipping out himself to head into the back of the house.   
\-----  
With the help of his plant, Alfie is let in the back door and knows where to find the men that are moving about the house to guard it. He enters the back with a firm nod, hanging his coat on the hook by the door in a subtle act of dominance, retrieving his brass knuckles from the pockets, shifting his fingers around them. He rolls his shoulders, arms now free under this loose white collared shirt and dark vest. Trusting that you've kept your word to handle the upstairs, he thumbs his nose and concentrates on the task at hand. 

His shoulders move with his hips as he swivels his head, keeping it low as he walks against the wall of the hallways. The first boy is where he should be as he closes in. With an unsuspected tap on the shoulder and a short "'ello, luv." before a well-placed punch is landed right on target. He moves the other man to a nearby closet, tieing his wrists and ankles, a gag in place just in case as he shuts the door behind him. He does this three more times, three more men, punches and bodies plopped and bound in the closet. 

"'Fraid that makes it your turn, mate?" he says looking to the man who helped him inside.

"Yeah, get it over with." he groans, shutting his eyes as Alfie hits him on the button, knees crumpling beneath him as he puts him with the rest of the men. Can't make things look too suspicious.

He takes a small knife, sticking it in the lock on the door and breaking it so even if they did wake up, get loose and get to the door, they'd be stuck. 

He wipes his forehead with his forearm, moving to take his watch from the pocket of his vest as he see's he's right on schedule. He turns an ear to the ceiling, nodding with each passing second and punctual as you always are for work, he hears a heavy thud from upstairs. "Good girl, Genny." he says to himself, putting the watch away and moving, still cautiously towards the stairs.   
\------  
You hop up a trellis, thankful you brought gloves because the thorns would've torn you to bits otherwise. You slink up the second story, and crack open a window, sliding into the dark guest room and shutting it behind you quietly. You stand and wait, ears primed for any sound that might indicate you'd been seen or heard, but nothing comes. 

You slowly creak the door open, fingers moving quickly and lightly in their tasks as you check the hallway. You knew the one maid in the house wouldn't hear you as she would be asleep at this late hour and her ancient ears wouldn't pick up on your light footsteps. You also knew Sigmund's wife was out of town, lucky for you. What you'd also found out in your shadowing of her was that she was cheating on little Sigmund with a young and strapping Italian so you were certain he'd be keeping her occupied for the rest of the night. This was what you thought could've been the reason for the Italians selling him the egg, not only would they know the wife wanted it, but they knew they could move it fast with this connection. 

You stand over Sigmund, fast asleep in his bed. Big round nose over a round chin, balding head framed with a dark pillow as his lips blubber with snores. You see the pipe next to his head, you'd have to smoke opium too if your wife was out banging an Italian 1/4 of your age. You were thankful all these things fell into place because his being slightly dopey would only work to your advantage. 

You take rope you'd carried with you, being very knowledgeable in the art of knots from your dominatrix days in Berlin, you're prepared to gag him at any moment if he wakes and chooses to scream but he does not. You bind his wrists, pulling the covers back and tieing his ankles as well. 

"Siggy..." you say clearly, seeing if he might be more sensitive to sound than touch and your hunch is correct. 

His eyes go wide, struggling against the restraints, as you shush him and put the gag in his mouth.

"Can't have you shouting now can I?" you say in a condescending way. He tries to get out of the bed and let out a heavy sigh. "Oh Siggy, come now, I'm not going to hurt you." you shake your head as his furry furrowed brow looks to you for answers. "I'm afraid you've made a very poor decision, darling." you scold, wagging a finger at him, now sitting up in the bed. 

"Hmmph?" he inquires.

"If you recall, and by the pipe next to your bed, I'll assume you won't...but I asked you about a Faberge egg a few months ago didn't I?" your eyes narrow, a subtle tilt of your head as he keeps the same confused look on his face. "I asked if you had heard anything about the Rose Trellis egg." you give him a few pouty-lipped tsks. "Why would you lie to me, Sigmund? You should know better than that by now." you pause and you see him relax only slightly, realizing you aren't going to hurt him, at least not right this second. "You know well enough that I'd find out. Or did you want to get caught? If you wanted to see me Siggy all you had to do is ask." you stand and cross your arms. "But now you've gone and lied to me and I'm afraid that just isn't acceptable." you give him the naughty schoolboy routine, standing and giving his cheek a light smack. "I know you bought the egg from the Italians." you frown. "And they stole it from me. They've paid for their mistakes, so where does that leave you?" your head tilts, eyes wide as his go the same, now showing fear. "You don't..." you put your hand to your chest as if you're shocked "You don't WANT me to hurt you...do you Siggy?" you ask in faux earnest.

The muffles please are blocked by the gag, as he shakes his head violently. 

"But you LIED to me, my dear Siggy. How do you think that makes me feel?" you pretend to be offended. 

The plea's continue.  
"I'll tell you what. I have a bit of information that's going to hurt you more than I ever could. So instead of torturing or killing you...like I did the Italians for their indiscretion." he hears your tone change and he whines. "I"m going to take back the egg that was supposed to be mine... and I'm going to break your heart instead of your neck." you give him a stern nod and a pat on the knee. "And in return, you will NEVER lie to me again and you will tell no one that I was here tonight." your eyes go dark, leaning close to his face, spit bubbling out from behind the hard ball in his mouth in his struggle to speak. "I have the cops on my payroll now Siggy. If you go to them I WILL find out. I've moved up in the world since we last worked together and even more so now than I ever have been...I am NOT a woman to fuck with. I have agreements in place with other gang leaders and connections that far surpass the ones you have from the dwindling amount of your daddy's money you've been living off of. And if you do try to come for me in any way. I will kill you. I'll kill your wife first and have you watch and then I'll kill you. Slowly and very painfully. We both know I know how to do such things. Don't we Siggy?" you annunciate clearly in your threats, you see in his weak chinned face as it shivers with fear and nods frantically, showing that he gets the point. "Do we have an understanding?"

"Mmmmph Pffbbttt Hmmmm!" his eyes are bloodshot from the rise in his blood pressure, veins popping out across his forehead and neck as he nods continuously until you break the silence.

"Lovely of you to be such a good sport." your face switches back to charming so quickly from deadly it makes him dizzy to contemplate. "Because you've made the very wise decision to be a good boy..." you take a vial from your right pocket, holding the glass between your fingers and giving it a shake, "You'll get the purple one tonight!" you say cheerfully.

"Hnnnggg Mmmpf!" he retorts with fear in his eyes.

"Come off it now Siggy, it's not going to kill you." you roll your eyes. "It'll just put you into a very deep sleep. This won't even make you sick. The other vial in my other pocket would've also knocked you out but it has some very nasty side effects." you pout your lips as if you were concerned about the man's well being. "I'm going to take this out of your mouth, and you're going to be quiet or I'll force the red vial down your fucking throat." you hold his chin painfully tight. "Do have an agreement?" you whisper.

"Mmmm!" he nods.

You unbuckle to gag as he gasps and pants for breath. "Down the hatch," you say almost cheerfully, holding his cheeks in one hand and pouring the liquid into his mouth. "There's one more thing," you say as you plug the stopper back into your own mixture of herbs. "This really does add insult to injury but you've gone and deeply insulted me and my intelligence by lying to my face so I don't feel bad telling you this really." you shrug as he smacks his lips, the potion must've already been numbing them. "You wife is the one who brought the egg to your attention, yes?" your head tilts innocently again. 

"Yeah....why?" his voice is shaky. 

"She knew about it because she's been fucking with the Italians," you say with a sympathetic shake of your head. You can see he doesn't understand your point. "That's where she is tonight. Out getting fucked by an Italian. So sorry to break the news to you deary." you give his knee a pat as he lays against the headboard, head hitting it with a thud. 

"She's out at her cousins, she just had a baby she-"

"No you poor old fool." you pat his cheek, feeling it growing colder. "I've seen her fucking him myself, unfortunately. Just balls deep in her as soon as that hotel door shuts behind them. Just really...fuckin'...givin' it to her, ya know? You should hear the noises she makes. She fucking LOVES it. Or more specifically, her words, she loves that young thick made in Italy cock that fucks her so well. So much better than her husbands." you shake your shoulders in a dramatic reenactment. 

You see the mixture of sleepy and sadness come across his face.

"I know, hard luck old boy." you pat his cheek again as a tear rolls down his cheek. "Oh come now Siggy, off to sleep dear. Deal with it in the morning, yeah?" you pull the covers back over him and let him slump back into his pillow. "Well that's done." you say to yourself.

You shrug and sigh, moving to the wall with the safe, you take the huge picture off the wall, much heavier than anticipated, but the signal would ring true and clear as it's weight lands with a heavy thud on the wood floors. 

The safe intel you'd gotten all checks out, the maker and style all correct. You stand in front of it, hands on your hips, chewing your bottom lip as you click in the combination. And nothing. You purse your lips, and with narrowed eyes, you try again. And nothing. You should have checked the combination before you knocked him out. Oops.

You're still standing in front of it with your arms crossed and head cocked to the side when Alfie quietly enters the room. 

"Bit of a problem, 'Fie." you mumble, turning your head to him.

"What's that?" he asks, looking to the sleeping man in the bed slightly confused. He expected to find him bound and struggling in a chair as you berated him but...this worked too. "Ya didn't kill him did you?" he quirks an eyebrow at you.

"No, no. He's bound and fast asleep from my nighttime vial, he'll be perfectly fine. There's a pipe by his bed so they'll assume he just hit it a bit hard tonight." you dismiss the worry with a wave of your hand.

"Like that Italians doing to his wife." Alfie jokes, a charming smile still beaming in the low light of the room. 

"Yes, those were my thoughts on it as well." you nod and give him a joke approving smile his way. "The combination isn't working." 

"Eh?" his head tilts, moving by you and trying it himself. "Hmmph." he grunts, fingers going to his beard in thought. "He's got a book with the numbers in it somewhere, 'ats how my man got them in the first place. He must've changed it recently."

"So I'm looking for a book..." you say to mostly yourself, turning on your heel with a clap of your hands, Sigmund still does not stir. "I'll check the desk." you clarify, switching on the lamp and opening up the drawers, fingers working quickly through files and paperwork. 

Alfie joins you, rummaging through other drawers in the room. "Well, this man's a right git, no locks on these at all. All his accountin' just out here for anyone to get to." he tsks and shakes his head. 

"Almost like he's asking us to steal from him isn't it?" you say in a playful way that he appreciates. 

"It's like you're in me head sometimes, luv." he lets out a raspy little laugh. 

"Maybe I am," you smirk, keeping your eyes and fingers to the contents of the drawers. You find a small black journal, brow furrowed again as you flip through the pages. "I think this is it. But there are loose papers in here, none are dated." you shake your head and turn to show him. 

"Fuck me, this might take a while..." he frowns, taking the book gently from your hands. 

"I was afraid of that." you nod, following him back over the safe, hopping onto the writing desk that sat by it. You look around the room, chewing the inside of your mouth as he grumbles and gets to work. You wait patiently, not wanting to make it take any longer than it had to. "You mind if I entertain myself while you do this?" you ask politely, your eyes now fixed on the door to the closet.

"'Course luv, go ahead. This is a one-man job, innit?" he says, eyes still focused on the dial. 

You hop down and make your way to the closet, flipping the light on and letting out a little noise of approval and excitement. Alfie turns to see clothes hung on the walls of the now illuminated closet, rolling his eyes and letting out a small huff of a laugh at you before returning to the task.

Your eyes and fingers are busy just like his, but you're looking through dresses and jewelry with great focus. You see a half opened box sitting on what seemed to be the small portion of the closet that belonged to Sigmund. Everything else was immaculate and you found it a bit of an eyesore and possibly more than a coincidence that the box was left open. "Ahhh." you muse to yourself nodding as you see the box is filled with little glass vials. Morphine and laudanum you purse your lips as this is a surprise to you but fully explains the state you found Sigmund in. Since it's clear he's going to be out for some time you decide to play around a bit to pass the time. 

You sit and go through a drawer of rings, trying them on and admiring them, you hold up necklaces and show them off on yourself in the mirror. You pick the biggest necklace you can find, adorning it and smiling happily at your reflection. At least his wife had some good taste, you thought to yourself. You even change into one of the more elaborate dresses you found. A lovely red dress, shimmering as it moved, your fingers dragging across the sequins and beading as it hung alone in a recessed portion of the wall. 

You don't even know how long you were in there, but Alfie clearing his throat interrupts your dress up. 

"Having a good time in here little girl?" he grins, eyebrows wiggling at you.

"I am. The dresses are too big but..." your shrug. " The jewels always fit." you let out a soft chuckle as you walk towards him. 

"Too big in the waist and too small in the tits. Tsk tsk tsk." he shakes his head, eyes raking over you. "What a shame for poor Sigmund that his wife can't fit into a dress like you, eh?"

You smirk at him, loving it when the combination of that predatory look and a compliment from him was directed at you. 

"Oh he doesn't deserve a wife that looks like me." you laugh, covering your mouth with your hand for a moment to stifle the laugh. "You make any progress?" your voice supportive and patient, delivered with an endearing tilt of your head up at him.

"Aye. I did." a smile you aren't sure if you'd seen before comes across his face. 

"And...?" you inquire, leaning your body closer to his. He catches the light of impatience in your eyes at his words.

"You sure you want it?" he teases, lips curling up in a grin in place entirely at your expense. 

Your eyes go wide and you nod enthusiastically, a small whine escaping your throat as your chest heaves in anticipation for a moment. 

"Eh...I dunno if you've earned it." he chuckles, shaking his head at you. 

"You've been in here playing dress up and had me do all the work innit ya?" he lowers his chin to his chest in a teasing manner, eyebrows high and accusing.

"I don't think saying you did all the work is fair. But you know I'd do anything for the fucking egg so what's it going to cost me Mr. Solomons?" you narrow your eyes at him, but they soon close as you start to chuckle to yourself. 

"Well..." he sucks his teeth and looks you up and down before continuing. 

"You could take off that dress to start." the way his voice swings deep, his tone calm and controlled makes you stop and freeze. 

You give him a few wide-eyed blinks of surprise and his dark eyes do not falter. "Take off...the dress?" you almost stutter, your hands moving to your shoulders. 

"That's what I said innit?" his bottom lip hangs low, eyes not meeting yours, but staring at your chest as he licks his lips. 

What sort of behavior was this? This wasn't...professional. This wasn't...usual or expected. This was...well it was thrillingly sexy but you saw the line between you once again. Recalling you were the one that crossed it earlier with the kiss. So you suppose this was entirely your fault. You bite your lip and meet his eyes. As he burns through any resolve you might have left against his charms with the look in his eyes, you bat your lashes and purse your lips.

"What about Sigmund?" you ask with a tilt of your head. 

"I just slapped the man in the face and he didn't fuckin' move. He's gotta pulse but that's about it." he explains with a shake of his head.

"Show me the egg first." you say with a wicked smile. He lets out a low rumbling chuckle at you, a smile to match your own on his face. 

He moves his hand from behind his back, in it he holds the Rose Trellis egg. He see's your chest heave, your tongue reach out to caress your lips as your eyes glaze over. You looked at him the same way you did that egg and he wasn't sure which target receiving the glance turned him on more. 

"Fuck me she's gorgeous." you whisper, eyes moving over it and taking it in. 

Yes, you were, he thought. 

"Is it bad that I have the urge to put that thing inside me?" your lip snarls slightly as a flush comes across your face, realizing you'd just said that out loud. 

"I believe the pointy bits might create a bit of an issue there, luv." that deep rumbling chuckle comes out, and not directed at you, just a kindred spirit sharing the sentiment of your lust for beautiful things. How lucky you were to have found someone who wouldn't snub their nose at your sexual urges that came when you had something materialistic, retrieved by ill-begotten means. You reach out for it and he holds it above his head. "Ah ah ah..." he scolds, your eyes fluttering and meeting his again. "Told ya." he nods, eyes still blue shimmering, simmering pools into yours. "Ya gotta earn it." he states coldly again. 

You supposed you're fully responsible for the monster you'd created. Letting him call you such filthy things in bed, letting him hold you down and giving him control. So you suppose there's nothing left to do now but enjoy yourself. You certainly wanted to. The tensing and silkening of your sex gave away your true desires and reactions to his power. And that was what had attracted you to him in the first place, wasn't it?

"I don't want to take the dress off." you say with no attitude to your voice as he smirks down at you. 

"Why not, luv?" he asks quietly, chin moving down towards your face. 

"I've never been fucked in another woman's dress and jewels before. " you give a coy shrug, pouting your lips as he lets out a laugh, looking away, tongue running across his teeth in amusement. "Or in someone else's closet," you add, looking back behind Alfie to the sleeping man in the bed. "Or while the husband of the woman's who's dress I'm wearing slept just a small distance away." you blink slowly in thought, closing the space between your bodies, your fingers drag down his suspenders, "You want to be my first Alfie?" you say with a smile that leaves him no question of the insinuation you were making. 

"I thought you didn't have any firsts left sweetheart?" he smirks down at you, body humming with the desire to take the chance to be someone who could stay in your memory forever, even as a story you told at parties. 

"Well I even surprise myself sometimes." you smile almost sweetly up at him. "Or should I say you keep surprising me Alfie?" your eyes narrow as you lick your lips and feel his deep exhale across your face. 

He groans as he towers over you. He takes a deep breath and moves away, you turn your body to follow him as he sets the egg down on a table. You look at it, then to him with question. "C'mere love." he says quietly but not gently. 

You obey and stand before him. His hands, branding iron hot against your bare skin, fingers trailing down your arms and to your waist. 

"You like surprises?" he gruffs out, one hand now moving it's way back up to your neck. 

"If they're the kind that ends with your cock in me then yes." you say almost matter of factly, a smirk being subdued on your lips. 

"Then you'll love this one." he growls, the hand moving your neck unexpectedly, forcing you against a clear space of wall with a thud, his hand holding you in place as his lips crashed against yours. Moans met with moans, as you grasp him tightly, hands moving to his wide shoulders and raking through his hair as he makes you forget everything else with his kisses. 

He yanks the top of the dress down, exposing your chest as his soft, full lips make their way down your throat to your naked chest. Wasting no time he sucks a nipple into his mouth in an almost violently hungry way. If his hand hadn't been around your neck, not squeezing but firm, you would've knocked your head against the wall as you released a muffled moan from deep in your chest, it coming out more weak sounding from his rough hand directing your jaw to the side so he could suck at your delicate skin. 

"I bet you're already wet enough to take me." he groans into your shoulder, teeth biting down on the shuddering muscles, his eyes rolling back at the thought of you being so eager for him. 

"I'll always side with Alfie Solomons on a bet." you say breathily, a smile across your face, eyes shut as he moves both hands to your face, the threat of violence lying just under the surface of his rough motions. He kisses you again, tongue probing deep into your mouth as you reciprocate fully, fingernails digging into his scalp as you both melt into the other, starting with your mouths. It was as if you were both starving for it, moans and gasps from you and growls and grunts from him, they overlapped and moved in tune to the other as he pulls the dress up to your hips, hand diving between your legs to grab you tightly, a tiny squeak leaving your throat. 

"You always have been a proper smart little bird, 'aven't you?" he gruffs out as his lips move over your ear. 

"When it comes to you, yes." you let out a soft hum of agreement as his fingers hook into your underwear to pull them down your legs, you step out of them as his mouth works away at your nipples again, as he'd lowered his face to pull down the silky fabric. 

"Fuck, Gen." he moans as he rises, hand raising up your thigh to rest on his hip, he grinds against you and you feel him hard beneath the fabric of his pants. 

"Yes, fuck me." you nod and whine, grinding your hips against him, your fingers clumsily work to release him from his pants, his mouth working away at your neck, hot and heavy breaths coming in shudder-inducing waves as his lips left marks against your skin. A growl from deep in his chest grows and you feel it move through you, groaning in response to feeling him hard and heavy in your palm. Using his own wetness, showing through his pants even before you'd ground yourself on him to stroke him to full attention. 

With a grunt, he hoists your leg up again, face buried in the bend of your neck, stationary and sucking a bruise into your skin. And you could not care less. In fact, you welcome it as he stops to massage his tongue over the darkening spot, easing any hurt you expected from it, as lovers in the past made you agree with the name of love bites. But he was as always, indulgent and thorough. Rough but not rushed. 

He merges the two of you in a solid forward thrust, your body welcoming him in enthusiastically with little resistance and a weak, breathy gasp. You feel his hand squeezing your bum, pulling you together even closer, a purely masculine, needy groan is given directly into your ear as his name escapes your lips involuntarily. 

He withdraws, lips moving quickly from your ear to yours, a slower, deeper kiss emerges from the slow but steady pumps he gives you. The things this man could make you feel. Excitement from this, now a twice over mutual conquest of your bodies and the egg. You find yourself overwhelmed, clinging to him, hands scratching desperately against the loose fabric that covered his back. Your eyes stayed rolled back, body being jolted with every firm punctuation of pressure from his hips. 

He notices you're quieter than usual, all breathy and soft swears whispered out into his ears as his hips expertly work away at your composure. It wasn't that he didn't think this softness was just as intoxicating as your growls and filthy words. It was probably more of a turn on due to the new and unknown nature of it. He'd planned on picking you up, bouncing you wildly on his hips as you squealed and rode him but he felt that all rough carnal urge hesitating, your hands and lips trembling against his firm chest and soft lips as you call out your pet name for him.

"Where's that filthy little French girl gone, eh? he asks with a smile, nose bumping against yours. You hum and let out a soft laugh, opening your eyes to his. 

"She's right here. " you purr at him, eyes half-lidded in their lust.

He pushes your back against the wall, arms lifting you far more easily than you expect, a high pitched gasp as he pushes into you so completely, elbows hooked under your knees, now hitting into you harder to draw out that minx. "You aren't staying quiet tonight. I'm going to fuck you so you have no choice but to call out for me. Let me hear her, luv." he groans into the hollow of your throat.

"Oui, prends-le. Prenez-moi. Tout ce que tu veux. c'est le tien. Vous devez juste demander." (Yes, take it. Take me. All that you want. It's yours. You just have to ask.) you aren't even sure why the words come out this way. You hadn't meant for them to. You wanted to give him what he wanted, tell him how dirty you were, how he was pounding you like the piece of meat you were but, your brain had other plans. Or perhaps it was your heart that was leading the way tonight. 

"Yes, yes, Genevieve. More." he moans while he kisses you, messy and broken as he pants from holding you up. The pounding he was putting you through, didn't match the words that fell breathily from your lips. His face buried in your tits, his tongue out and journeying across the expanse of your entire chest as you pushed your breasts together to either side of his face as your arms wrapped around his head, holding onto his thick neck for support. 

" La façon dont tu fais l'amour avec moi est incroyablement incroyable. Vous me faites ressentir des choses que personne d'autre n'a avant." (The way you make love to me is incredibly amazing. You make me feel things that no one else has before.) He moans from deep in his stomach, a hand slapping your arse hard, making you tense and squeak in response. The continuous words, not just small excerpts of dirty dialogue, but the rolling of your tongue, the weak sounds rising and falling in volume pushed you both closer to climax. "Tu es tellement bon. Vous êtes si mauvais. Comment un homme peut-il être un amoureux si intuitif? Une bête, un criminel et un gentleman à la fois?" (You are so good. You are so bad. How can a man be such an intuitive lover? A beast, a criminal and a gentleman at the same time? ) your voice inflects upward, another moan, another gasp he reciprocates, hips slowing but not stopping, an in and out drag against your swollen sensitive nerves, each ending in a firm slap of flesh against flesh. "Je n'ai jamais été touché par quelqu'un comme toi comme ça. Bon sang tu es si bon. Tellement bon." (I have never been touched by someone like you like this. Damn, you're so good. So good.)

With that he crashes his lips against yours, a needful grunt of sound rises and repeats itself as he responds to your submissive body language, letting him hold you entirely, control everything about the sex you were having, giving yourself up to him in a vulnerable way makes his thighs shake and not just from exertion. You wrap your legs around him, keeping him close, hands clutching and desperate in his hair, as your chest heaves. "Si proche, plus fort. Oui, Alfie, plus. Tellement bon. Oh mon Dieu. Oui!" (So close, harder. Yes, Alfie, more. So good. Oh my God. Yes.) you cry out into his mouth, he feels that shudder in your hips as you start to shake. He doesn't hold back, hitting you like a machine, hard and fast and exactly where you need him to be like always. "Je vais ... tu vas me faire ..." (I'm going ... you'll make me...) your voice is high pitched and hungry, he felt the need from your sounds and actions along with the way he made your body respond to him. 

"That's it, luv. Give me what I want," he growls, slamming you down onto his hips. "Come for me gorgeous, let me make you feel good." 

"Tu te sens si bien, Alfie. Tellement bon. Ici ... maintenant, quand tu m'embrasses bonne nuit, le matin quand on se lève ensemble. Donne le moi " (You feel so good, Alfie. So good. Here..now, when you kiss me good night, in the morning when we get up together. Give it to me.) you cry out, eye squeezing shut as your lips tremble first, followed by the rest of your body. He feels it move down your spine, ending with your hips grinding against him as you quake and moan. "Merde! Comment te sens-tu si bien?!" (Shit! How do you feel so damn good?) barely squeaks out of you, all choked and rasped out between moans. 

He can't hold himself back moving to grab you by your cheeks, holding you in place as you tensed and seized around and against him. "Fuck, luv, yes, take me." he groans, face falling between your breasts, his mouth always searching and moving against the sensitive skin as he empties himself inside you. Moans traveling like waves hit your ears with every twitch of his hips. 

You wrap your arms around his head, expanding and contracting with both your chests, feeling his breath across your cleavage. You rest against the wall, head back to give him room to breathe, your fingers start to work at his hair without even putting forth the conscious thought to do so, gently pushing it off his face where it'd been jostled loose, your thumbs wicking away the sweat around his temples. "You can let me go, Alfie, put me down if you'd like." you whisper, moving your face back down to look at him. 

He shakes his head no between your breasts, causing a hum of a laugh from you. "What if I don't want to?" he gruffs out, chest starting to slow in its rhythm. 

"Then don't?" you say with a soft chuckle. He grunts in response with a nod, his lips start kissing your sternum, forehead still pressed against you. "Didn't want you to hurt yourself though." you say with sincerity. He huffs out a laugh at this, looking up at you. 

"I wouldn't've started this if I didn't think I could finish it." he grins, and you respond just the same. 

"I'd never accuse you of such a thing." you say animatedly, sighing and letting your head fall back against the wall. 

"Alright. Down you come, sweetheart." he lets one of your legs fall, still wearing heels and landing with a clack against the hard floor. He holds a firm hand to your ribs, making sure you're steady before loosening his grip on the other. You grunt as you lower it yourself, a bit stiff from being bent up. "You good?" he asks, eyebrow up and lips pouted at you in concern.

"Oh yes, just have to get the blood back to my legs." you say, shaking them slightly. He reaches back and gives you a firm slap to your bum with a cheeky grin. 

"That help?" he quirks an eyebrow and laughs. 

"Oh yes, always helpful, you are." you chuckle, slipping the dress off. "Let me get my clothes back on," you say to yourself basically, hanging the dress back up. He comes behind you, large hands wrapping around your waist, his chin on your shoulder. "I'm considering taking this as well, to be honest." you give him a mischievous look. 

"You do look smashing in blue...Sapphires flatter your coloring." he nods in agreement. My goodness, he did learn a few things from Freddie, hadn't he? "Those jewels look stunning on you dear. Does make me wish you'd taken the dress off though...maybe next time we can fuck with you only wearing someone else's jewels, eh?" he wrinkles his nose before planting a kiss to the side of your head. You almost blush from the adorable nature of the gesture. 

"I'd be wearing a lot more pieces if we were going to do that. Enough necklaces to form an Elizabethan collar, bracelets up to my elbows, rings on each finger." you laugh softly, fingers caressing the stones that sat on your glistening skin. 

"Wear the long necklaces around your waist?" he offers, tilting his head as you meet his gaze in the mirror with a smile he finds especially lovely. 

"You're so clever, Alfie. We'll have to try that sometime." you giggle, returning the kiss he'd given you to his cheek as you turn to put your clothes back on. He peaks out the door, watching Sigmund still unmoving.   
You leave the necklace on. "I think I'll take this as a reminder of tonight." your fingers play with the necklace. 

He turns to see you, weight on your elbow, your body bent and rested on the table holding the egg, his eyes drawn to your painted nails twisting the pendants around your neck. 

"That'll be good. Make 'ol Sigmund come to me to replenish his wife's back stock of jewels. What a master business model we've come up with." he laughs, turning his body back to face you. 

"Well we are partners now, it only makes sense." you laugh as your fingers hold the egg and inspect it. "This is going to look spectacular in my closet next to the other egg, don't you think?" you tilt your head with your bright eyes focused on him. 

"Wouldn't look better anywhere else." he declares, grinning as he stands on the other side of the table. "But I would kindly request that I get to come to look at it from time to time. Seeing as I got it for you and all." he rolls his eyes playfully, looking under his brow at you. 

You give him a charming smile. "You know you're welcome in my bedroom anytime, Alfie." you let out a chirping giggle, your eyes returning to the egg, as his eyes stayed on you.


	40. Future Starts Slow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song for he chapter is Future Starts Slow by The Kills.

You had been excited a mear hour and a half ago, but now you were standing in the corner, arms crossed across your chest with your lip between your teeth. Since when did you feel lonely? And in a room full of people? You chew your cheek and wonder if you're just moody from whichever point in your cycle you're in. You thought that maybe getting out by yourself, mixing among the socialites and upper class might make you feel empowered. You'd gotten all tarted up for no one but yourself and as soon as you'd started a conversation with the other party goers you'd had to hold in your heavy sighs at their words. 

The women's heads seemed full of air, only gossiping about other people, nothing of any weight to be said. The men's pick up lines were atrocious and some downright nasty, uninspired and delivered with zero charisma. You find yourself unamused and uninspired and not wanting to be there. So you stare into the tower of delicately balanced champagne flutes, sigh after sigh, disappointing conversation to disappointing conversation, and you place the glass back down on the table. You hear a loud booming laugh of a man, swinging your head to see, your brain telling you it might be Alfie, but alas, it's not. 

You tuck your purse under your arm and head for the door. You find yourself for the first time leaving a party early and being happy about it. You're already relieved as you slide into your car, you lie back your head and realize the best conversation you could be filling your time with would be at home, so that's where you'd rather be. 

Alfie's nose is in a book, little gold glasses atop it as it twitches, his eyes blinking as he hears your car coming up the lane. He'd expected you to be out all night, you'd been so excited about the party earlier he found it strange behavior. He knew if anything was wrong that you'd come and tell him, so he chooses to continue reading and be patient. 

Your feet aren't light as you walk into the study. You spin and flop dramatically onto the couch next to Alfie, causing him to grunt and look over at you. Your shoulders are slumped, lips pouted and face annoyed. 

"Somefin' wrong, luv?" he says quietly, lowering his glasses as your eyes move over to meet his.

"No." you sigh. 

He lets out a huff of a laugh. "Not very convincing, that." he grins with a nod of his head at you. 

"I was having a miserable time at the party. Everyone was so...boring." you say with a twist of your chin. 

"Well that's high society for ya." he agrees, a small shrug of his shoulders.

"I realized I'd rather be home." one corner of your mouth pulls back in a small smile at him. "And now that I'm back I plan on washing the makeup and mediocrity off of me in a nice long bath." Your eyes move to his hair, fluffy and messy and clearly recently washed. "I see you've already taken one tonight." Your voice sounds disappointed. This doesn't go unnoticed by him as he watches your eyelashes flutter as they move over his hair.

"Yeah, I got it over wif." His voice matches yours, soft in its delivery as he watches your face. It falls slightly, moving to your dress before you gather it in your hands to stand.

"You know where to find me if you need me, Fie." You say in an exhale, giving him a small smile as you look back at him over your shoulder before leaving the room.

So you'd rather be home with him and you'd planned on having a bath with him are the unanticipated thoughts behind his blinking eyes. He finds them fluttering like yours, and that much he'll acknowledge. But the fluttering in his stomach, and more importantly his chest that the confessions made him feel bring him to his feet without so much as a second thought as they find their way to you.   
\-----------  
Your eyes are closed, hidden by the steaming hot washcloth over your face. Your head leaned back on the edge of the tub, facing him as he quietly pads his way into the bathroom. The window is cracked only slightly, letting the sounds of the night in. You've forgone electric lights and set up candles in the room and bedroom, he'd seen you do this once before, but now he understood it as a way that you romanced yourself. You'd claimed it calmed you, saying everything looked softer, easier to deal with in candlelight. But with the sounds he'd heard you making with yourself on that night, after passing your door much later in the evening, he knew you were doing more than that with the dreamily lit environment you'd created. Perhaps he could make it so you didn't have to do any romancing or touching of yourself on your own anymore.

He watches you in silence for a few moments, the ripples across the water from your hands moving along your body, from shoulders to breasts to thighs and knees and back again. There are no bubbles to hide your feminine form from his eyes this time. The lavender he'd gotten you sits in the window alive and well, bits of it floating in the water with you. The steam rising smells lovely, just like the lavender itself, reminding him of the times he'd gotten close to you directly after a bath, that smell sticking to your skin as he got to steal small secretive sniffs of you as you got close to him. He didn't plan on sneaking any of those tonight. He yearned to press his face into your warm skin and inhale so obviously his lungs burned from the exertion. He desired to know what your pink and polished skin would feel like against his with steam still rolling off your body from the heat of the bath. 

A lump builds in his throat as you move your hands to wipe the washcloth down your face, eyes moving automatically to him. You'd known he was there the whole time. Of course, you had.

"Are you going to just stand there?" you say with a soft smile, a piece of hair falling down across your face as you moved your head, the rest still piled on top in a knot. 

"Seems when I come across you naked I'm compelled to silence and observation." he tilts his head slightly, an almost shy smile as he looks down at the floor. 

"I'm not bothered in the slightest by your gaze. What is it, darling?" you say with a soft chuckle. 

"I didn't want to interrupt your alone time, luv but I found myself wanting to be around you once you left. Seeing as I thought I'd be here alone all night and possibly nursing you and a hangover tomorrow morning, this now as a viable option seemed much more enjoyable." he grins and looks back up to you. "And seeing as those other people were such a bore I thought I might throw my hat into the ring to entertain you."

A smile blooms across your face, reaching your eyes as they crinkled at the edges. "And what is this plan of yours to entertain me?" your chin moves back and forth as you seem to glow at him, your damp skin glistening in the low light of the room. 

He motions one pointed finger the tub. Your eyes follow it's direction and then swing back up to his. 

"I thought you already had a bath." you say in a much quieter voice. You were hiding how your breath caught in your chest at the way he could read you. All from a glance and a fluttering of lashes that you hadn't even meant to do. He had known what you'd wanted. 

"Yes but, I didn't have one with you now, did I?" the charm is back behind his eyes and smile and you succumb to it. 

"I'd much prefer to have a pleasurable memory to be attached to you and baths than the current one of me being hurt." you use as an excuse, your brows raising high on your face. 

"Then you don't mind if I join you?" he shakes his head, hand motioning out towards the tub in a broad gesture.

"No! Of course not!" your voice goes a little too high pitched, not hiding your happiness at his suggestions. "I'd love for you to, darling." you say, sitting up and moving to the end of the tub closest to him, forearms on the edge, water dripping off you and into the floor as you rest your chin and watch him undress. 

"Good thing I'm not shy." he says with a laugh, shirt already off and fingers pulling down his pajama pants. "What with the way you stare and all." his chest keeps moving as he chuckles, eyes narrowed playfully at you.

"I like to gaze at things I find appealing, dear, you know this by now." you shake your head, sitting up to make room in the large tub, nose scrunching up at him with a smile that was entirely honest and genuine.

"Oh she's sweet talking me now, eh?" he laughs as you turn in the tub, knees to your chin as he steps in and takes his time sinking down in the steaming water. "Fucking hell, you like the water hot." he says, lip snarling slightly as he adjusts.

"It makes me feel more at home. Acclimated to my birthplace of hell." you laugh at yourself, shoulders shaking and rippling the water further. 

"Mmm." he grunts, finally relaxing against the side of the tub. "I would argue but sittin' in it now it's feeling well good on my old bones so I suppose I'll agree since I too am feeling at home." he lets out a sigh and you both gaze at each other for a moment. 

The room is near silent, just wind and insects muffled from outside, the lapping of the water as you moved hesitantly. Feeling oddly unsure as to how to proceed, your uncertainty sits heavy in your stomach.

He must have seen it on your face as he always does, as his deep voice breaks the silence. "C'mere, luv." he gives a subtle gesture with his hand. You give a shy smile, looking down and slinking towards him. 

You move to put your back to his chest, sitting forward between his legs.

"Lay back sweetheart, relax," he says softly, and you let yourself lean back against him fully, Your head falling back just near his shoulder, giving you enough room to lay it back. "It's not usually me telling you to relax." his wet fingers move your hair away from your face and neck, you could feel his breath fan across the bend of it, stretched out and vulnerable to him. "Take your deep breaths." he quietly suggests, and you obey. "I know I can't live up to your hands but I can rub your back if you'd like." he offers.

"Oh no I much prefer laying back like this." you say softly, eyes closing. "Rubbing the front is much more relaxing than rubbing my back to me." you let out a little chuckle.

"As if you would even have to ask for me to do such a thing." his voice has that delightful cheeky ring to it.

"I do mean north and not south." you let out a giggle as you move his hands to your chest, your face leaning back, hands going back to rest and you let out a noisy sigh as he starts to knead your breasts. "Much better, darling, thank you for indulging me." you say as your head snuggles back into his chest. 

"More than happy to oblige." you feel the breath of his laugh over your neck. "This alright?" you feel his mouth rest on top of your head, an affection tone washing over you. 

"Wonderful, as long as your touching me, really." you admit in a breathy exhale, not feeling the sexual repercussions of such touching yet. He wasn't pinching and teasing, only rolling you softly about, hands sometimes wandering up your sternum, down to your ribs and stomach, warm and wet up your neck and cupping your shoulders. Soft and lazy and exactly what you needed. 

"Now then. Tell me what made you leave a party you'd been looking forward only a few short hours ago." his voice is deep and evenly paced, taking cues from the back massages you'd given him. Everything feeling easy and gentle. 

"I found myself feeling out of place. The women only wanted to gossip and I suppose I needed something of more substance tonight." you say in a weaker voice, now trying to deeply relax against him. You sat across him like a throne, your hand on his thigh of the knee that was bent up, the other rests against your own.

"Mmm." he said thoughtfully. "And you don't mention the men?" he chuckles, "I know they talked to you."

You let out an amused hum and smile, watching your fingers trace back and forth on his leg. "Awful." you let out a laugh and turn your head up to look at his face. "So boring. So unoriginal. Devoid of any charm whatsoever." your face shows your mild annoyance. 

"Not even a handsome one could hold your attention?" his face looking possibly slightly smug in the low light.

You laugh again. "What's handsome worth anyway?" you shrug and look back to your restless fingers. 

"Well it's worth quite a lot I'd imagine." he says with humor in his voice. 

"Yes but for how long?" you sigh. "When I was younger, yes. I'd find one that was easy on the eyes and with the intellect of a bucket of rocks with a hole in the bottom and never care." you give your younger self a half smile. 

"And not now?"

"The older I've gotten the more complicated it's all become." you shake your head just slightly. "Before you, it'd been over two years since I'd slept with someone." he studies your face, your microexpressions as they pass over and change with the thoughts you weren't expressing. "I could work with only handsome before, but now I require things far beyond that it seems."

"Like what, luv?" he sweetly inquires.

"A trinity of physical, mental and emotional."

"A sure sign of a woman who knows her worth and what she wants." you almost purr at his praise. "It'd been over two years...really?" he says, eyes narrowing at the statement almost in disbelief as he'd seen your sexual appetite and he wasn't sure how you had gone so long without exploding into thousands of tiny, shaking pieces. 

"Yes." you say certainly, a slight nod of your head.

"And why me, sweetheart?" 

The question and the earnest tone catch you off guard, your eyes flutter open as you think. "Well you checked all three boxes didn't you?" you say obviously, he feels the tension leave your body as your eyes shut again. 

"Did I?" he says smugly, a grin on his face you can't see. 

"I wouldn't be here with you now if you didn't." you state obviously. 

"If you wouldn't mind to indulge me a bit here, luv..." you can feel him swallow before he speaks. "How exactly is it that an old ruffian like me got to be so lucky as to have you approve of him?"

You weren't sure what he was looking for from you. Maybe it was genuine curiosity. But perhaps now was a good time to sort a few things out for yourself. You go back to your original approach when you were still trying to learn to trust him fully and go with honesty. "Well..." you clear your throat and open your eyes. "For physical, you didn't have to do anything. You're very handsome." you grin and look up at him again, wanting to see him as the compliments came down upon him. 

"So complimentary this evening." he chuckles down at you, you reach up, water droplets plinking against his skin and down your arm as you reach up to scratch his beard.

"You said indulge you, so I suppose you want specifics?" your eyes narrow playfully at him, a warm smile on your lips. 

"How could I not want to understand how your brain works, Genevieve?" he looks down at you and radiates charm. 

"Let's start with this work of art that is your face." you coo at him. A smile that mirrors the warmth and fondness of your own beams down at you. "That heavy masculine brow...piercing eyes...that example of perfection that is your nose." your head shakes back and forth just slightly.

"My nose?" he lets out a laugh.

"Yes, it's brilliant, darling. Perfect planes and points. My inner artist adores your face." you can't help but laugh with him. "And don't even get me started on those plush pillows you try to pass for lips." you giggle at yourself. 

"These? These lips?" he puckers them and your nose wrinkles as you laugh at his silly antics. 

"Mmm Hmm." you nod, lips barely able to close from a smile. 

"Mmmph. I see." he says with a furrowed brow, leaning down to kiss you. 

The wet smack of your lips back and forth for just a moment is all you hear echoing in the dark room. "I'm afraid with kisses to go with your hands on my breasts you're going to get me the opposite of relaxed." you smirk at him. 

"I certainly don't have a problem with that...unless you do." his lips pout just slightly in the asking of permission. 

"I do not." you shake your head and bite your lip. 

"Certainly such sweet honesty deserves to be rewarded, luv." he coos down at you, one hand moving down to between your legs as you let out an audible sigh. 

"You know I adore your reward system." you chuckle, closing your eyes, pressing the side of your face into your shoulder, nuzzling into his chest as his fingers parted your lips, rough fingertips giving you slow drags up your clit.

"What else?" his voice rings out darker, more commanding. 

"Mmmph. Okay I'll try to keep talking." you can't help the smile that blooms across your face at his playful antics. "We were on physical...handsome...yes." you nod and scratch his beard. "I'm terribly fond of your more...masculine traits. This full beard..." you let out a noise of approval. "Even if it does cover that angel face of yours, still can't find it within me to prefer you clean shaved over it. Especially when you let it get a bit wild like this." your lips curl into a smile. "The salt and pepper of it," you give the lightening bits a tug at his chin. "The way it scatters down that...thick neck of yours." you let out a breathy exhale and lick your lips, his fingertips still tapping and gently flicking, building a slow burn within you.

Getting a peak inside your head like this, and as your eyes slowly darkened at his motions and your own words, the way you were getting wet over describing him physically was making him hard. It gave him a rush of power that he hadn't known before. You were clearly enjoying whatever feelings it was giving you, even in the low light, the flames flickering and lighting you like a painting you might create, he could see the truthfulness of your words behind those big brown eyes of yours.   
"And you are built, cheri. Just...broad and...strong." you bite your lip to muffle a soft moan. "And your hands...ugh." you look down at your chest, feeling his chest move with a silent laugh at the roll of your eyes at him. "The rings are so sexy and those calloused fingertips and palms from work make me feel like a little sheltered French girl who's getting sexually awoken by the farmhand she's been secretly pining over." you chuckle at yourself.

He never thought he'd hear such words from you. To be able to see himself as you saw him only made him feel more powerful, more capable and dominant. 

"You already know how I feel about that magnificent instrument I feel rousing against my bum right now." you grin again, eyes looking into the water at the hand moving just slightly between your legs. 

"Now 'at you have praised before." he practically groans, fingers now sliding farther down, making you whimper and your chest start to heave with need as he pushed two fingers inside you. 

"That curved cock of yours can press my buttons in the most sinful of ways, Fie." you whisper out, eyes closed again as you let your head fall back. 

"Like 'is?" he whispers against your ear, fingers curling and holding you with a jolt that forced an involuntary noise from your lips of an obvious agreement. 

"Oui." you whimper out. His fingers uncurl, going back to a slow in and out that was still making it hard for you to keep your head clear enough to carry on a conversation. 

"And what's next, luv?" his voice to that delicious condescending power that made you tense around him. 

"Mental." you rasp out before clearing your throat. 

"Mmm. Now 'is. I'm very interested to hear." he whispers in your ear, making you bite your lip and moan softly. 

"Well you do this." you let out a huff of a laugh. "It's the first thing I noticed about you. Couldn't miss it even from across the room." your head shakes as his fingers return to your clit, fingers pinching your nipple harder.

"What's that, sweetheart?" he implores further.

"That power you have. You just..." you gulp, and take a strong inhale. "It radiates off you. It's not just smart...not only clever or funny." your voice grows weaker, needier and it causes a groan to build up in his chest. "You are those but this is...different," you whine out. "Like an... undeniable charisma that forced itself in and seduced my mind."

"That is the sexiest thing you've ever said to me." his tone is exactly what you speak of. Like his words could command you to feel things you didn't want to. Things you'd fought for years against feeling, things you'd lied to yourself about existing. 

"But you can be a right cheeky bastard when you want to be." your grin showed through your flushed, bitten lower lip. 

"Someone's got to remind you, ya can't be in control all the time, Genevieve." you moan at the words, his fingers now harder and more insistent against your throbbing bundle of nerves. 

"That's it..." you swallow noisily again. "The power I was talking about." you rasp out before you moan again. 

"Oh, I know." you can feel his charming, wicked grin even though your eyes are shut and you can't see it. He was humming with power at this moment, even he could feel it and be aware of it now. Identifying the exact thing he wanted to know that made you want to submit to him. He was relieved it was something you found unique, as that assured you couldn't get it from anyone but him. 

You knew what title came next. Your least favorite to talk about. But his fingers working against you were working like a truth serum as you were already a heaving chested, lusty little bird in his hands. 

"And what closes this emotional trifecta for you, luv?" 

How did he make you feel? You knew the answer of everything wouldn't work. You knew a lie wouldn't suffice, or possibly even come out of your mouth at this point. "You make me laugh." you whisper, eyes open but half-lidded. 

He feels a motion in his chest that catches him off guard. Making you laugh was one of his favorite things. Something he'd worked at the art of all this time, as you didn't seem to care for just anyone's sense of humor, and you certainly didn't give the lusty head thrown back, hand to your chest laughs to anyone but him. Knowing it's what came to mind first touched him deeply. "I do." he answers smugly, lips against your ear as you shudder against him. 

"I don't know how you do it but you can calm me...shut me down without making me hate you." your voice was sounding different, and not just because he was actively switching his fingers between circles around your clit and pressuring inside of you. "Perhaps that's also the power." you rub the side of your face into his chest, eyes squeezed shut in concentration and arousal. 

"Perhaps." is all he can answer. He didn't know what he expected, but as you tended to do, you were outdoing anything he had expected to come from his antics. 

"And you..." you swallow again, he feels you hesitate, feels your breath catch. 

"What is it, luv?" he whispers, lips pressing against your neck and you moan at his actions. 

"I feel...safe around you." your eyes open and they seem surprised by your own answer, he rewards the honesty with more curling of his fingers inside you and you cry out. 

"I take that as a great compliment in our sort of life, darling." his lips continue moving across your neck, feeling your pulse jump, watching your chest move rapidly, whimpering out little moans with each time he'd press into you. 

"More so..." you take a deep breath. You force it out. You do it because it's true. He wanted answers...you'd give them to him. You move your face, causing his lips to break suction from your skin. You move your hand up to the back of his head, hand trailing down the side of his neck, trembling. He meets your eyes and the fear flickers back and forth between the two of you for a moment. "I trust you." you confess. His heart races against his ribs so hard you feel it against your back. 

"You..." he almost stutters and catches himself. "You trust me, luv?" It was a question and an unsure one at that. Trust wasn't something that existed in either of your lives previously. Least of all in someone who also worked in the treacherous, lying and brutal world that you two existed in. 

You nod, licking your lips. "I trust you Alfie." it spills from your lips and as if he could catch it and put it back in with his own, he kisses you. "Should I?" you ask, his lips barely even parted from your own. "You aren't playing me like an instrument are you? Like you are with your fingers now?" your lips tremble, and not just because he had you on the edge of an orgasm.

The awful, wicked things you had to have been told about him. From Tommy alone, who could fill a book with all of Alfie's lies and betrayal. The other gangsters you worked with, you must know what sort of man he was. And now, looking into your deep, emotion filled eyes that desperately sought out answers he feels a shift within himself. That was the sort of man he had been. Not who he was now...not who he was with you. You claimed to be under the influence of his power but what of him with yours? Saving his life, forgiving him and taking him in and never demanding anything in return. Somewhere along this strange road that you two were walking down together he'd become loyal to you.

At first, it must've been your beauty, he thinks. Then your kindness towards him. He wasn't used to such a thing directed at him. Then your mind bewitched him, your skill and your dual nature of brutality and finesse. Somewhere between the night you first met and now...somewhere he'd been chained to you by fate and without question, and now realizing for the first time in his life...without question, he was loyal to you. 

"You can trust me my love." his voice barely a whisper, a clearly honest answer you felt down into your bones. You push his head against yours again, deepening the kiss, your fingers in the strands of hair that reached past his hairline and down onto his neck. 

He feels you shudder again, a whine still audible despite the way your lips locked together. He moves from your lips, to sloppily kiss your neck which you give him full access to. 

"Alfie." you call out his name, his fingers back to your clit, moving fast and purposeful, wanting to make you feel as good as your confessions whispered in the dark tonight have made him feel. Your hand reaches up to clutch his that's still working against your breast. "I never thought..." another moan wracks your body. "Never thought I'd trust a man again." you whine, thighs starting to shake. His heart drops into his guts. 

"I don't say it lightly, sweetheart." his words pass through the filter of lips and tongue to your throat and shoulders. "And I mean it. Never let it be a source of worry." he rasps against your skin. "To worry about my betrayal when it comes to you is..." he sucks at your skin as your cry out for him again, your hands shaking as they hold onto him tightly as he knows you're so close. "Needless." he moans into your ear. "Pointless." he huffs out, a groan escaping his chest. "Causeless." he whispers into your shoulder as you have your final shake, your body pressed against his fully as you held you tightly, letting the water spill and splash over the edges of the tub as you writhe against him. His eyes close, the feeling of your soft flesh grinding against him makes them want to roll back in his head. 

"Oh, fuck." you breathily exhale. You feel a rush you haven't before. You felt alive and energized, the quiet room falling back into place, the moans hushing for a moment as you come down. You sit up, moving to bring your chest to his as you take his face in your hands and kiss him hard. His large hands travel up your back and hold you with splayed fingers gripping against you. "Alfie..." you whisper against him, gulping and taking a sharp inhale. He pants against your mouth, eyes traveling across your glistening face, patiently awaiting your request. "Take me to bed and make love to me." you request softly. He sees your eyes soft and wanting, focusing on his features that you'd confessed your fondness for. 

"Anything you want, Genevieve." he whispers, his hand pushes your head back down to join his, mouths lapping at each other as your weak, high pitched moans intermingle with the constriction of his arms around you, holding you as tightly as he possibly could, knowing it would never feel close enough.


	41. No One Knows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song for the chapter is No One Knows by Queens of the Stone Age.

"It's Friday night, luv, why ya still worryin' away over 'at?" his voice breaks your concentration as you blink up at him, head tilted in inquiry, feet paced heavy across the floor of your office to you.

You're sitting on your desk, still in your dress from work. Your ankles crossed and your hands holding a stack of papers. You push your small gold circular glass up your nose and as your concentration breaks you let out a yawn.

"Look at ya, already tired. You've been workin' too hard today, Genevieve." Your eyes meet his as he stands close to you, chin lowering to emphasize his point. "You's gone before I left this morning and now you're still buried in ya papers?"

"You do it all the time." you give him a small smirk, followed by a soft sigh. "I was dealing with my businesses today. Had to get an early start if I wanted to visit everyone and be able to get these finished." you shake the papers in your hand.

"What are they luv? If ya don't mind me askin'."

"No, darling, it's perfectly fine." you shake your head, handing them to him casually.

He looks them over, nose twitching as he grunts and nods, fingers flipping through the stack.

"All these are dated today." he observes out loud.

"It's what I've been doing all day. They're why I sent those papers with you to give Tommy." He grunts and his lips purse at the mention of his name. "Alfie, I told you we spoke on it and come to and underst-"He raises his hand to stop you.

"I know, luv." he says coldly. He was still sore about their argument and you didn't blame him.

You sigh. You continue your explanation. "I wanted them given to the lawyer he uses to make sure everything was binding and correct."

"What ya usin' his lawyer for? I know plenty of good ones." he says defensively, his eyes still on the papers.

"I've used him for years, he's a very decent man. For a lawyer anyway. Very shrewd and sharp. He's also Jewish." you shrug as if it might ease his mind on the subject.

"Mmm." he grunts in response.

"I wanted my agreements on paper with the employees. I thought if I'm going to go down this path I needed my affairs in order and legal and documented instead of being based on handshakes and good faith."

"And what path would that be, luv?" his eyes finally move back up to yours.

You let out a heavy sigh and smile at him, it catches him off guard and softens his expression. "The path to being a proper gangster." you say without hesitation for the use of the word for the first time. A smile grows slowly across his face, you mirror it as he sets the papers down on the desk.

"So these are contracts, yeah?" he says with a smug nod.

"Citing I own and operate and have the power to do what I please with the business whenever I see it fit." the fact that you were holding his stare, the sly smile and way your eyes narrowed just slightly as he approached you made his lust for you rise. He did love it when you took control of things and saw your own promise in being a ruling force in the city.

"And how did they take to that?" he says quietly, slowly, moving his hands to your knees, pushing them apart and standing between them. He loomed over you, his powerful aura starting to mix with yours and you feel your pulse quicken.

"Some signed with a smile." you give him a little shake of your chin. "Others took a bit more...coercing." your nose wrinkles slightly, eyes still steady and strong against his.

The insinuation of you having spilled blood and threats to get the pristine papers that had held your attention all night makes a deep sigh build in his chest, giving him the oxygen his body needed to pump his blood to places other than his brain, as that's what the thought did to him. "And did they all say yes at the end of the day Genevieve?" he leans in close, a hand trailing up your arm to the side of your face. His intentions fully clear.

To say him being so aroused by your actions did the same to you would be an understatement. A man who relished in your brutality and wit, welcomed it, nurtured its actions made your tongue dart out from between your lips, your eyes falling to his, set in an attractive smirk.

"Every last one of them." you whisper, tilting your head to show just how welcome his advances were.

His deep groan starts before his lips connect with yours harshly, continuing on as he held your face tightly, vibrating your mouth and feeling it into your chest. You return his passion in full, hands slipping under his suspenders as his nails rake up your thighs, pulling up your skirt.  
\--------  
"'Ello Aggie love!" Arthur booms, hugging the woman who was wearing a rather surprised look on her face.

"Uh...hello boys! Were we expecting you?" her head shakes just slightly.

"No, but you try telling Arthur we aren't going to stop by and see Genny when we're already in London." Tommy says, giving his coat to a maid.

"I 'aven't...WE 'aven't got to spend a good night with her in ages, Tom. 'Course I wanna stop and see her." he defends himself, hands in his pockets as John puts his toothpick back in his mouth after taking off his coat.

"She does feed us and drink us well if nothing else. Although she's always got good stories...can't blame him Tom." he shakes his head at his older brother, lips in a thin line, eyes unamused as usual.

"Didn't say I blamed him." he says cooly, hands moving to his pockets.

"She's in her office last I checked. Had her nose buried in paperwork all day, poor dear." she says sweetly. "I'll set up tea and have Viktor heat up tonight's dinner. She didn't even come out to eat." she muses to herself, already walking away and to the kitchen.

Arthur is excitedly leading the way behind his brother's to your study, knees high and elbows out, excited to spend time with one of his best friends. He waits for the other's to catch up, wanting to surprise you by all three of them entering at once, just knowing your face would light up at their appearance. He wanted to surprise you...and boy does he. It all happens so quickly. The seconds that pass feel like hours when it's over.

"GENNY LOVE WE-" he makes a snorting, choking sound as both doors swing wide open, his arms out and proud in an announcement of their presence. "WHAT THE FUCKIN' HELL?!" he shouts out in that deep gruff tone of his.

"Ayyyy!" John yells, his clapping together immediately and laughing at the sigh of Alfie fucking you on your desk.

"Oh fuck." Tommy grumbles, hand covering his face, but not before everyone gets an eye full of Alfie with his trousers around his knees, balls deep in you, face buried in your neck, your head thrown back before it snaps forward and with saucer-sized eyes that meet Arthurs you let out a high pitched yelp as your hand slaps over your mouth in embarrassment.  
And Alfie...bless him and his confidence, keeps pumping into you despite a laugh growing in his chest, as he can only imagine the look on the boy's faces.

You and Arthur are frozen, both stunned beyond words. "ARTHUR!" Alfie shouts out, turning his head slightly to the side, even though he can't meet Arthur's face and stay inside you. "Shalom!" he shouts and you can't help but snort out a laugh, slapping Alfie's chest and burying your face in his neck to hide your blush.

"Fuck's sake." you hear Tommy growl, slamming the door shut after he pulls his brother back into the hallway.

"Yeah, get 'em Genny!" you hear John shout before the door shut with a bang.

Alfie's stopped, the smuggest look on his face you've ever seen. In the moment, before the consequences sink in, you both burst into laughter together.

"Oh my fucking God." you choke out in between belly laughs. Alfie pulls out of you, shoulders shaking in amusement still as he puts himself away. You stand and pull your skirt down. "Have they never heard of a fucking telephone?" you say exasperated, taking a deep breath.

"Came for dinner and got a fuckin' show, they did." you give him a closed lip smile that tells him to stop in a playful way.

"Fuck me, now I have to go do damage control." you roll your eyes and sigh. Thankful it was just the brothers and this should all turn out fine. Anyone else and you would've had a real problem. Although you weren't at fault, you didn't feel shamed or guilty at your actions, you'd never wanted the brothers to see you in such a way, but it's not like they didn't know you weren't a woman or were in denial that you were some virginal girl. "Poor Arthur..." you say, with wide eyes, holding back a laugh.

"Eh, the lad'll be fine. But I reckon he hates me more than he did to begin with right now." he smirks. "I'm proper glad Tommy saw though." his brow furrows in a masculine, prowling sort of way. "Let him know where I fuckin' stand." his head shakes as he says the words with malice. He was relieved in a way that Tommy knew about you two now, now he'd know not to mess with either of you.

"I doubt Tommy cares about us sleeping together at all." you shrug, your face losing the laughter it'd held a few moments ago. He sees your lips twitch in thought. "I mean, I don't think any of them will ultimately care but Tommy's so far up his own arse sometimes he forgets there's anyone but himself around." you roll your eyes and sigh.

"You alright handlin' this, luv?" his tone much sweeter than it had been. "I dinnit think you'd want me goin' wif ya. Seein' as they're your boys 'n all."

"No, it's fine. I should go alone. Just a bit of a damper on the evening momentarily." your eye bat at him. "I was having a proper good time." you give a coy smile, triggering that charismatic grin of his you loved to make an appearance. "I'll give you an update when the smoke has cleared, darling" you lean to plant a kiss on his lips, giving him a small nod as you make your way to the lounge in the guest wing, you're guessing they'd be there.

Your feet feel heavy as you make your way slowly across the sprawl of your estate, fingers rubbing your temples to ease the tension of dealing with this. You hoped they were in a good mood so this didn't end poorly. They certainly seemed to be in a good mood until they'd laid eyes on you and Alfie.

You shut the door behind you and keep your eyes on the ground for a moment, getting a feel for the mood. The air was tense but not angry so you raise your eyes to look the men over.

John is chewing his toothpick with a smirk on his face, totally at ease, sat back in a chair with his legs crossed, he gives you an eyebrow wiggle and you give him a little smirk in response.

Tommy is sat forward on a couch, opposite end that Arthur sits, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together, giving you a look that was mostly indifferent, and partly telling you he'd known this was going on already.

And Arthur. Poor Arthur. He wrung his hands together, brow furrowed but eyes not angry in the least, eyes steady on the fire, not wanting to speak first.

"There are these inventions called telephones you know? Right?" you say with raised eyebrows, easing the tension and letting them know they should've at least fucking knocked. Tommy smirks at your response.

"I'm sorry Genny, sweetheart. Aggie just told me where ya was 'n I was excited to see ya and I just barreled on in there and didn't fuckin' think. Just like me innit?" his eyes are wide and a little bit sad.

"I assumed as much, dear. I'm not mad at you, don't worry." you see him let out a heavy sigh of relief.

"Solomons, eh?" Tommy sits back on the couch, lighting a cigarette. "Knew he was here to lay low but that apparently was not the entire truth, was it?" he plays coy for the sake of the other two men.

"It was the whole truth at the time." you say defensively.

"Of all the men in London I wouldn't have put my money on Solomons to be the one to get ya." John says.

"Get me?" your face frowns. "There's nothing to GET. We're two adults who have sex from time to time. I know you've had plenty of women you've had similar relationships with." you remind him with a nonthreatening glare.

"Is he good to ya, Genny?" Arthur asks with such sincerity you want to almost laugh at the holy fool. You were concerned about things far beyond Arthur's feelings but you were touched that he was considering yours.

"He's been very good to me." you give him a sweet smile and your response seems to calm him. "I will explain my actions just this once." you raise a pointed finger to emphasize your point. "And only because I feel like I owe you something for putting you through what you had to see." you sigh and cross your arms over your chest. "I'd not had anything to do with anyone since moving so I could make sure that I didn't give anyone any fuel for words being spoken of me that had anything to do with anything that wasn't business. So, as I'm sure you can relate, I found myself with needs unfulfilled and just so happens he also has the same needs and seeing as we already cohabitate it made sense to use the ease of spending time together to our advantage." your tone is indifferent and delivers the facts straight. "I expect this information, along with my relations with Alfie to remain unspoken and preferably never thought of again from all of you." your tone moves to scolding, fingers being wagged at each man, meeting their eyes and making sure they understood. "I don't want or need people in my personal business and this is something I want no one else to know about." you lower your hand and purse your lips.

"Of course not, Genny." Arthur agrees with a shake of his head, his eyes still a bit sad. You look over to John for confirmation.

"Ah, who 'ave I got to tell?" he says with a wink, that was as close to a yes as you'd get from with without coming down hard on him so you accept it. You swing your eyes to Tommy and nods obviously.

"I already knew so why start telling people now?" he does his smug smile and you roll your eyes in response.

"Well then that's settled." you brush your hands over your skirt as if to show you're moving forward with the conversation. "I'm going to go let Alfie know that you all decided to be mature about something for once." you say with a grin and move to the door. They each take the hint and stand. "You boys still want to stay? You'd be in a room besides the blue, Tommy, Alfie's got that one."

"Don't be silly Gen, it'd take more than the sight of Alfie's lily white ass to run us off." Tommy stands next to you, looking down at you but not bringing any negativity with him.

As you show them out of the room you hold Tommy by the arm as he shifts to walk away from you. You stop him after the others are out in the hallway. You speak in a much more serious tone, not wanting to alert the others, but wanting to make sure Tommy knew that you were still worried despite their verbal agreements not to tell anyone. "Knowing what you do about my father, you understand why I can't have any word of a romance between me and Alfie, correct?" your eyes are wide, brows high and voice quiet but cutting.

"Romance, eh?" he quirks an eyebrow at you and you glare at him.

"Not the time to argue over details." you hiss.

Tommy straightens his shirt with his fingers, correcting his posture and resting his hand on his chest. "Of course, Genevieve. I understand and I'll be sure they understand as well." his voice is quiet to match yours.

"Thank you Tommy. I'm already on his radar, word's getting around and I'm sure something will come of it sooner than later." you let out a ragged sigh. "I'm just trying to prolong the thin veiled, so-called "peace" that we have right now." you roll your eyes, mouth set in a frown, arms crossed again.

"If you need me for anything..." you both exchange a curt nod. "I hated him from the moment I met him at my wedding. I know what a fucking prick that man is, no need to carry the weight of all his sins on you when someone's offering to help you carry them, eh?" his face leans closer to yours, making sure you knew he was serious.

"I will. I've only heard a low rumbling of rumors thus far. But I'm sure every time I go out in public with him he knows about it at this point. And despite the fake name, I'm sure he's got wind I'm meddling with gangsters."

"The police are on your payroll correct?"

"Yes but...he's got more pull than I do."

"He's only a title now. You're underestimating how much people hate your father beside you I think." his eyebrows quirk slightly.

"I don't know anyone who likes the man except those that lick his boots to save their hides."

"And even then it's false fondness. You've made a name for yourself, and luckily for you, that name is said with good feeling by most and with fear from the rest." he tries to be comforting, and he is.

When it came to your father he was pretty much the only thing you feared. He was a Duke, as titled. An empty title but it was there nonetheless. You had tried since you were 17 to stay out of his line of sight. Perhaps it was time you tried to stand back in the light. You might have more money than he did at this point, everything grand about him had always been a lie, a front to hide his misery and debts and shortcomings as a human being. Only marrying your mother to save face by taking her family's money and the power of their name for himself through malicious blackmail. The thought still sent an ice cold chill up your spine. He had certainly beaten the fear of him into you, hadn't he? You feel ashamed of it for a moment, then you're reminded it's not your fault he was an abusive scum sucking parasite, living off of a title he didn't earn. How sweet would it be to have his least favorite child, his failure, and a woman above all else stand up to him? The thought sat deliciously in your mouth as you savored what that might feel like.


	42. Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song for the chapter is Dreams by The Cranberries.

You awake to the warm hands of Alfie on your clammy, sweat covered skin. He'd slept in your bed again after the usual Friday night of habit of sleeping together, which you welcomed now. And after waking up from a dream like the one you just had, you found yourself especially thankful he was there. 

"Shhh, luv, it's just a dream innit?" you hear his voice soft and deep as his hand pushes back your hair, an open palm on your stomach, as your chest started to ease in it's heaving. But it wasn't always "just" dreams with you, was it? He forgets it was your dreams like this that are the reason he's still alive. Although this one was far easier to interpret than the previous ones you'd had about him.

You were standing on a beach. It was cold and you could feel the salty sea wind biting at your bare skin, feeling vulnerable and raw. You see your mother, your brothers, and sisters by the water together. Your heart leaps at the sight, as you hadn't seen them in so long and you start to move forward. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Alfie walking beside you, it was a lovely scene. You were excited to have him meet your family, you felt warmer as soon as you noticed him. But then appeared your father. He was like a great wall, a force that pummeled icy air upon you, separating you from your family. You want to scream and yell and attack, but you can't. He's in your face, teeth gnashing and spit hitting your skin. You feel small, frightened just like you had when you left home and you start to cry. He hits you across your face, followed by shoves and grabbing your hair and shoving you to the ground. Just like he had the night you left home. He shakes you and hits you against the wall he'd created with his appearance, separating you from Alfie. You look to the confused man and try to run towards him, the only thing besides your father with his hand around your throat that you can see, your head being knocked back against a hard surface. You call out for him and reach and fight and grasp at nothing but he's just out of reach. Your father turns, seeing that he's there and starts to pull you away by the waist. You can't get out of his grasp. Your fathers screaming at Alfie, throwing threats and telling him how you aren't worth the trouble, you're just a broken little girl who lives under his rule and he can't be with you. His insults then turn to Alfie himself and you fight back. You fight with all you have, but he keeps pulling you away from him. You think you might have hurt him enough to free yourself, feeling your body falling, and that's when Alfie's presence in real life snaps you out of the dream.

So you're gasping on your back, wide-eyed, face wet with sweat and tears. You hold your hands up to see them, they're shaking and Alfie takes them in his.

"C'mere, sweetheart," he whispers, pulling you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you as you come down from the trembling mess of a girl the dream had turned you into. He shushes you, face buried in your hair at the top of your head. You put your hands on his chest and feel his warmth, his heartbeat and you try not to cry. You're angry at yourself for the dream, for letting your father have this effect on you and your life. "I've got you, Gen, hush now, luv, nothin' gonna get ya while ya, while I'm here, is it?" he says in a warm, smooth voice that washes over you like a heavy blanket. You found yourself believing his comforting words. You move your arms around him, pressing your face against his chest, fingertips gripping into his back as you hold onto him like an anchor to reality. He continues shushing and cooing at you, kissing the top of your head as you settle, and eventually, you do. He asks no questions and demands nothing, just strokes your hair and bare skin lovingly until the both of you fall back asleep.   
\----------------  
Alfie had gone out to the city, only after you gave him the go-ahead to do so after the state you'd woken up in. He said if you were too shaken he'd be happy to stay, it was only a few things that he had to do that'd help the workload of the next week move smoother. 

His willingness to stay if you needed him and his reaction to the vulnerability you'd unwillingly shown make your chest ache. But not in the sorrowful way that you were used to. You watch his car leave down the drive, chewing your thumbnail in thought. This had gone beyond your original intention, hadn't it?

"Fuck." you swear out loud to only yourself in your bedroom, shaking your head. "You silly, silly girl. What have you done?"

You sit in the comfiest chair in your room by the fire, the autumn air starting to chill you even in the daytime. You pull your thick dressing gown around you and settle in, placing a phone call. There had only ever been one man previously in your life that you'd always trusted and you knew loved you and would never do you any harm. That was your uncle Altar. And seeing as you've found yourself in dire need of good advice, you call your favorite man in the world, the only man that had ever been a father to you. 

"Surely the operator is lying, no way my little Lily is calling me out of nowhere?" you can picture his big grin under his beard, brown eyes so similar to yours shining with amusement as he spoke.

"She was not lying it's me." you say softly.

"Oh my favorite niece, it is a beautiful sound to hear you speak again my dear." he coos. 

"And the most comforting to hear yours, uncle." you reply in earnest.

"What do I owe this pleasure my sweet princess?" he asks, getting to the point, just like he always had. 

"I hate to admit that what I'm calling for is both, for you, seemingly good and bad news."

"Oh, Genevieve, my darling, what's happened? Are you alright?"

"That's debatable." you say with a bit of humor to your voice and you hear his warm laughter that makes you smile. 

"Out with it, c'mon, who knows how long I've got on this earth, tell me before it's too late." he jokes.

"I find myself in need of some advice."

"And you've come to me? Oh, bless you, child, I'll talk the ears off your head, please go on."

"You're not going to believe this...I hardly believe it myself." you sigh.

"When it comes to you absolutely nothing could surprise me." he teases, it makes you smile. You missed him so.

"I've met someone."

"And I stand corrected." his voice goes higher pitched in surprise. 

"And it's a man."

"Well fuck me, Lilly you've gone and got me all excited. Who is this demi-God, for he must be to have captured a demon's attention like yourself." his voice holds nothing but affection for you.

"I'm afraid it's more than a bit complicated. I'm not sure how to move forward, or if I even should...with my feelings for him I mean."

"If it's love how can it be that complicated?" he says supportively.

"I am very fond of the man but don't get ahead of yourself." you chuckle. 

"No such words have been spoken. We're not even a couple really. I started sleeping with him out of convenience as he was a handsome friend and my idiot self has gone and started to go all doe-eyed and crave him romanticly and not just physically." your voice is grumpy now. 

"Better to be friends first anyway. Don't be like me and jump into marriages over a great pair of tits and some tricks in the bedroom." you both laugh.

"I did learn that lesson from you." you chuckle, "Too bad you can't learn it yourself." you joke. "Although his tits and tricks are rather nice." you giggle. 

"Oh don't try to change the subject dear, please, tell me who this man is so I may give this advice you seek."

You take a deep breath. "His name is Alfie Solomons. He's the leader of the Jewish Gangs in London." you feel your heart beat in the pause that follows.

"Fuck me girl, that is complicated isn't it?" his voice is still light. "Don't get me wrong, I'm elated at the news myself. You know I have no issue with that."

"I know you don't."

"In fact I prefer it." he chuckles. "A tough man that can provide and protect you." you can practically feel his chest puff up with pride over the phone. "Not that you require that darling."

"I know."

"So you have gone and gotten into the underbelly of London I see." his voice more judgey this time.

"I have." your voice flat.

"You said you weren't." his voice is still full of tease, he knew you too well.

"I know." you admit sheepishly.

"I knew you would, my child it is in your blood." he says proudly.

"Don't tell mum, please." your voice pleading slightly.

"I wouldn't! Wait, bought the crime or the man?" he laughs.

"Fucking both." he laughs again and you smile with it this time.  
You let out a heavy sigh into the receiver. He breaks the silence.

"Does your father know?" he asks, voice more serious.

"I've not been contacted but I've heard rumors he has. He wouldn't know of my feelings for the man, just the working together." you softly explain.

"Well that's a bit of good luck." he offers.

"If that's what you want to call it." you roll your eyes. 

"Are you worried about him?" his tone more concerned.

"I'm afraid I was conditioned to be." you weakly admit.

"You've gotten rid of a lot of the things you were conditioned to be, dear." he says supportively. 

"He's the hardest to shake yet." The dream come back into your mind and you feel the sting of tears. "What if he comes for me? Or what if he comes for Alfie? What if he tries to take away everything?" he can hear the choking in your throat from holding back tears.

"You've not been on his money for years, my sweet." trying to build up your confidence.

"I know but what if he tries. I've worked so hard." you rasp out, hand covering your mouth, eyes shutting as you begin to cry. 

"I know that better than most anyone, love." his voice is so sweet and caring, exactly what you'd needed and hoped to hear. "Is this Solomons worth the risk?" his voice prys, and you let it.

You pause, sighing and looking into the fire as you wipe away a stray tear. "I don't know." he hears you sniffle and realizes this is quite serious for you. But otherwise, you wouldn't have called him about it if it hadn't been. "I've just..." you take a shaky inhale. "I've never met a man who would be and here I am...risking punishment from my bastard father over one who could be. Exactly where I said I'd never be. Afraid of my father and afraid of my feelings and-" he can tell you're getting worked up and cuts you off.

"Hiding." he interrupts, his voice sterner, but he knew that's what you needed.

He hears your sob despite how you move your face away from the phone.

"I've always told you, you can do anything, my little Lilly. I have always believed that. As soon as I held you in my arms, I knew you were different. I don't mean to come at you so hard dear, you know I hate to upset you... but don't you see the root of all that trouble?" his voice is more desperate, wishing he could hold his darling niece in his arms and comfort her like he used to.

"Me?" you say weakly, it hurts him deep in his soul that that was the answer you gave.

"No! No, no, absolutely not, cheri. Try again." his voice kind and warm again.

Alfie certainly wasn't the problem, just the side effect. So was it men? Were you truly weak to men? Also no. Then your father. "Father." you whisper out.

"You have always been smart my child. You do not need him to approve of you."

"I know that."

"Do you? Because you're still denying what you are and when you came to me that summer after you left home...." 

"I remember."

"You said you'd never let another man tell you what you could or couldn't be. And what does he still do?" 

Your anger surpasses your sadness with his words. He was right, but of course, he was.

"He did it to your mother. He's done it to your brothers and sisters. You are not like them. You know where your soul lies. You didn't have it trained out of you, domesticated like some beast. That's not you, is it Lilly?" he asks, voice harsh. 

"No." your voice matches his and he is so pleased to hear the fire burning in you again.

"Then what do you have to do?" his tone is slightly condescending but warranted. 

"Not hide anymore." the fire in the fireplace reflects in your eyes, burning down into your chest and possibly down into your very soul. 

"That's my girl." he cheers.  
\-------  
You're in your office, chewing your lip at the ledger for Abeille. You hear a knock on the door.

"Come in." you say passively.

Claire says, holding one single letter in her hands. You can tell by her body language that something's wrong. "This came for you." she say softly, laying the letter in front of you on the desk. You shut the book and move your face to see what she's sat down.

"Fuck." you rasp out, hesitantly picking it up and rising from your chair. "I suppose this was inevitable." you say weakly, a groan to your voice as you move around your desk to the fireplace to get a good look at it. It was from the address of your father's office.

"I've been on edge waiting for it honestly. Or a phone call or God forbid he show up here." she shudders at the thoughts.

"I've been worried as well." you let out a heavy sigh. "Let's see what threats the jellyfish bastard has for me then." you roll your eyes and open the envelope. "From the secretary-" you scoff loudly. "Not even signed from him." you shake your head."Couldn't be arsed to write a letter to his daughter...fucks' sake." you clear your throat. " From the secretary of George Greene III..." you scan over the letter. "Your father has asked me to write to you to express his distaste for the news of you working with the Jewish gangs that he's received from London. He would like to remind you of the family's agreement and orders that you cut off your ties with them. In his mercy, he is willing to forgive this oversight in your judgment. If you do not cease and follow his demands, he will be forced to take further action against you." You swing your head to Claire, a deeply annoyed look on your face.

"Sounds about right." she says with a stiff face and angry eyes.

"I don't know about you Claire...but I'm about fucking tired of his bullshit." you say with vigor.

Claire smirks, happy to see some fire in your eyes. She hated your father almost as much as you did. "You know I prefer to not live in anyone's shadow. Especially those I do not respect." she gives a single controlled head nod.

"I fucking hate him." you say with absolute certainty. You roll your eyes and let out a heavy sigh, "I spoke with Altar..." you begin.

Claire grins, she loved your Uncle. "This should be good." she smirks.

"Oh it is!" you give her a bright smile. "After giving me a much needed talking to about who I am now, and where I've come from. How I don't live on his money and I rule without hate, unlike him, I believe it might be time to give 'ol daddy the big, fuck you that I've longed to my entire life."

"Oh." her eyes wide, not expecting this."Really? And he supports this?"

"You know he hates him more than anyone." you speak with passion.   
"Perhaps it's time to expose George for what he really is." your eyes narrow. You give a single strong nod, balling up the letter and throwing it into the fire.

"Never thought I'd see the day but I can't tell you how equally happy and fearful I am." she offers with an unsure smile.

"Me too Claire." you move to her and place your hand on her shoulder. 

"But isn't it time we got out of that monsters shadow? He doesn't deserve the sunlight on his skin, we deserve it on ours instead." you speak with certainty, back straight and eyes bright.

"I"m with you no matter what Genevieve." she puts her hand on top of yours. 

"And to celebrate a small victory, to indulge in a bit of childish rebellion, I'm going to go and fuck the leader of the Jewish gangs in London." you say with a warm laugh.

"I can't even argue with it at this point." she grins. "The man's growing on me, I'll admit."

"He's growing on me as well." you say with a coy smile, a mischieveous smile on your face as you both look at each other.

"Don't think I haven't noticed." she says with a tilt of her head. 

"Can't hide anything from you, can I Claire bear?" you lilt out, looking at her over your shoulder before crossing into the hallway.

"I know you better than you know yourself, Genevieve. Go have your fun." she smiles and waves her hand for you to go on. 

She never thought letting Alfie into the house would end well. She never thought that he would bring on what she'd always wanted for you. Peace of mind. She knew that cutting the cord to your father, letting go of that hate for him and the hate he'd put of yourself into you, that even if it all crashed and burned that the weight off yours, hers and Aggie's hearts might just be worth the trouble.   
\-----  
"Alfie!" you lilt out, a devilish smile on your lips, and an exaggerated sway to your hips as you enter the study to find him seated on the couch. 

"What is it Genny?" his eyes raise from the papers in his hands, head still facing downward.

"You've been working all day and night, darling." you say with a pout that makes his eyes narrow.

"That's because I got a lot to fuckin' do, luv." his faces raises, a small smirk on his face.

You stand over him, one hand in your hair, twisting a curl around your finger, the other reaching out to run through his hair. "Why don't you take a break, handsome?"

The touch is welcome but he hesitates, he really did have a lot to do.   
"Eh..." his mouth opens in a gruff stutter, shoulder shrugging slightly. "Didn't want to lose me focus."

You sit next to him, one leg bent up on the seat, torso facing him. "You're stressed, sweetheart."

"Of fuckin' course I am I got all these fuckin' leeches tryin' to bleed me fuckin' dry 'n that's not even the worst of it, I-" he begins, he sees your eyes narrow at him from under your thick lashes and he knows to stop his complaints. "Right." he groans out, eyes narrowing back at you mouth hanging open for a moment. He huffs noisily out of his nostrils and sets the papers down on the table in front of him. "Get that fuckin' look off ya face." he says as if he's angry with you, but you know it to be false. The sly smile you give him makes him more certain of the decision not to run you off. "'Ello luv." he says, resting a hand on your knee. "How are you this evenin'." his lips pout at the delivery of the words, his body and attention now on you. 

"Wet, Alfie." your eyes grow dark, your teeth grazing over your plush bottom lip as you say his name. 

A low groan comes from his throat, eyes now looking you up and down. 

"I wanted to help you clear your mind..." you say sweetly but it's entirely a front as your fingers walk their way up this thigh. "And your balls." your eyes swing up to his, your tongue peaks out your grinning lips at him.

"I wunnit lyin' 'bout bein' busy." he says, almost as a warning, chin pushing into his chest. 

"Then I'll just have to be quick about it, won't I?" you whisper against his lips. You ignore his tone and move to push his back against the sofa with your hands on his shoulders. You continue speaking as you lower yourself to your knees in front of him, between his legs. "I find myself craving you very specifically and strongly tonight, Solomons." you say as your fingers work to undo his belt and buttons to get to the twitching length of him.   
"And I'm not going to take no for an answer when I really....really want something... am I?" you quirk a brow up at him, a wicked smile on your recently licked lips. 

"No you are not, pet." he groans out, his hands resting at his sides, just soaking up the attention and the need he saw in your eyes. 

You take him out of his pants, not all the way hard yet and you purr at the opportunity. You take him into your mouth with no verbal response back as you hear the hiss escape his lips. You press your nose into his stomach, tongue swirling and lips sucking away at him, feeling him grow hard in your mouth. One of your favorite things, and something you rarely got to indulge in with him. You moan around him, you feel a groan grow as you run one of your hands up under his shirt to drag down his broad chest, the other around his back to firmly grasp at his bum. 

Once he's back to his usual diamond level hardness, you slide him out of your mouth, saliva still connecting your lips to his tip as you pull away, wrapping a hand around him to work him as you spoke. "Feeling you get hard in my mouth like that gets me so wet, Fie." your eyes burn into his, tongue out of your mouth and lapping at him in an exaggerated way, cycling from licks to indulgent sucks of his now red tip. 

His sexy half smile, a huff of laugh that moves his chest at your words makes you moan around his head again. "You like 'at do ya?" his confident and cocky tone back to where you desired it. 

"I love it." you say, your mouth never leaving his cock. 

"Fuck Gen." he rasps out as you work him with your hand and your mouth simultaneously. "If it's a ride you're wantin' you better hurry the fuck up before the train leaves the fuckin' station." he laughs, hand moving to hold back your hair. 

You give him a big charming smile as you let him pop out of your mouth. "Wouldn't want to miss that now would I?" you whisper against his lips, leaning over him, quickly removing your silk underwear, hitching up your skirt and straddling his legs. 

His hands grab at your thighs, smacking their sides at the sight of your stocking and garters, pinching the soft flesh just so in the most appealing way. HIs nostrils and brow twitch watching you reach down to rub yourself for a few breaths time, his hands now firm on your arse and kneading away. You lean forward to kiss him, a firm slap to your arse in response as your tongues mingle among your crashing lips. You raise up your hips, and being the gentleman he is, he holds himself so you can lower onto him. You rise up away from his face, hand yanking down the neckline of your dress, exposing your breasts and his hands move quickly towards your heaving chest, and just like a baker he gets his strong, ringed hands kneading on you again. 

"Oh, fuck Alfie." you whimper as you take him into you completely, now resting hip to hip against him. You waste no time as promised, running your hands up his chest. Your back arched to kiss him as you rest one hand on the back of the couch, gripping the hard wooden trim for support, the other, sliding up his neck, fingers nesting in his beard as you feverishly kiss him. 

You move slowly at first, drinking in his moans as a hand moves under your skirt to hold you by the hip, guiding you along. You set a steady pace, the heavy thud against him gives the pressure you crave, feeling the pleasure building now, you break the kiss and rise up, placing your hands on his shoulders, moving up and down at a steadily increasing rate, your breathing matched in passionate panting as you look into each other's eyes. The first moan from you breaks the eye contact, your head falling back as you move to grind back and forth against him.

"Ah, that's it now, luv." he groans out, one hand still on your hip tightly encouraging the movement from you as he knew it'd bring you closer sooner, watching your hips drag and swivel, he licks his lips at the feeling, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. You take his other hand, placing it on your hips as well, drawing his attention back to your undulating body on top of his. 

"Hold me tighter," you command with a gentle nod of your chin. He obeys and his white-knuckled fingers squeeze, pushing you down harder onto him as you whimper out with growing need. "That's it, good boy." your eyes shut but the wicked smile remains. "You feel too fucking good I'm getting close." he knows this position can finish you off quickly but your slower paced approach surprises him once again. "Keep hold of me." you whisper, leaning up, hands on the back of the couch as you rise and fall with a pounding force on him, still slow, steady steps to get to your destination together. Your chest now directly in his face, your tits knock about on his cheeks and he snakes his head around to suck one nipple into his mouth, causing your mouth to drop open and your chest to bounce as you let out a small, helpless sound gasp. He moans as the pace grows quicker, both hands still held onto your hips, slamming himself up into you as you crashed down against him, a moan knocked out of you each time with your deep breaths.

His lapping tongue is distracting, panting and roaming against the hard nub, taking it between his teeth and nibbling with taunting pressure the louder your sounds together became. You can feel the throbbing grow more intense, him moving inside you just so with the direction of your swiveling hips, "How do feel so fucking good inside me, Alfie?" you whine, your whole back now twisting as you gave over to the feeling.

"It's these fucking serpentine hips of yours you wicked thing." he huffs out, hand reaching up to pull your lips to his, he needed you. He needed your breath mingling with his as he bites and sucked away at your mouth that cried out for him. His other hand disobeys orders, reach up to grasp your breast tightly, thumb and index fingers pinching and rolling your nipple. He plants his feet firmly on he ground and bucks up into you hard, making you loudly cry out his name. He responds with a growl.   
"Fuckin'g take it Gen. You know how much I love making you come all over this cock." he huffs out in an intoxicatingly dominate voice.

"Oui." you whine out against his lips, resting your bobbing forehead against his when you had to catch your breath. Your eyes are tightly shut. "Fuck." your chest stutters as you let out the prolonged cry for him. His teeth hold your bottom lip with a pinch. "You're going to make this little cunt come for you, Alfie." moan out helplessly, your body being pumped into fiercely underneath with the full power of hips. You couldn't have stopped yourself if you'd wanted to. Your ears ring and your hands tremble against his shoulders, a high pitched, sharp gasp of breath is the only sound that leaves you as you give him what he asked for with open, trembling lips.

Once the tremors have mostly passed, you can open your eyes, another sharp gasp of breath against him. His teeth now gnashed together, his jaw tight, heavy, masculine grunts and growls fill the space between your bodies as his hands move to your hips to hold you and fuck up into you to finish himself off. You tighten yourself around him, your head swinging to the side, mouth and tongue moving fast against his neck and up to his ears and back again, moaning into his thick beard and pouring dirtyy words into his ear to finish him off. "Come for me, 'Fie. I want you to fill up this little cunny you magnificent beast. I'm absolutely soaked from that thick cock of yours. Make it even wetter for me, would you? Make a fucking mess of me, darling." you hiss and rasp into his ear, your tongue working its' way into its grooves and panting as you wrap your arms around his neck to hold him close. He lets out a loud and guttural moan, a hand slapping your arse hard. "That's it," you say in a condescending tone, your hips pounding back into his. "This tight little cunt's going to make this cock mine, do you understand?" you growl, hand tugging at the hair at the back of his neck. "You're going to fucking come because it's what I want. And you'll give me anything I want won't you Solomons?" your voice is dark and directly antagonizing and his eyes roll back in his head. Fuck he loved your filthy mouth. 

"Fuck!" he growls, eyes meeting yours as your lick the sweat from the side of his face. "Anything." he helplessly moans out into your smirking mouth. 

"Then fucking come for me, Alfie." you growl, biting down onto his thick bottom lip. You know the strangled sound that squeaks out of his throat, how his fingers press into you, nails breaking the skin that he's giving you what you want in that moment. Holding himself inside you, before finishing off with a final few hard thrusts to finish the job.

As his soul falls back into his body, his eyes focus, hand moving to the back of your head, pushing you against his mouth, a deep and passionate kiss builds, despite your hips powering down. As you move to a slow and wet pace, lips smacking together, broken with smiles and happy hums between the two of you, you lean to kiss the tip of his nose. 

"That's a good boy now, hmm?" your smile isn't condescending like the words would suggest. Your fingers wipe the sweat from his forehead gently, smoothing his hair back and gazing down at him.

The look in your eyes doesn't go missed by him, in combination with the warm smile and the soft tone you praised him with, he basks in the heavenly sight of you looking down on him adoringly. That's what it was, wasn't it? A sparkle that hadn't been there the last time he looked. What had he done to deserve a woman like you looking at him like that? He didn't know, but he didn't want you to look at him any other way again.


	43. Daddy Issues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song for the chapter is Daddy Issues by The Neighbourhood.

You're walking down the hall towards Alfie's study. You'd left your sketch pad in the room and wanted to retrieve it to do some drawing out in the garden. You had lots of autumnal colored new paints you wanted to use as the trees were starting to change. You adjust the large, thick knit men's cardigan around your slip dress. You hear a strange noise from the direction of the kitchen, choosing to investigate, you walk down the thin hallways, the noise growing louder. As you enter the scullery, you see Aggie on her knees, sobbing. You look around to see the other oldest employees of yours with tears in their eyes. A letter rests in front of the floor in front of Aggie, you rush to her side, hand on her back, trying to console her, her face in anguish.

"What's wrong Aggie?" you ask, pushing the hair out of her face that had fallen out of its usual tight bun. She's crying so hard she can't form words.  
\---------  
You're in Alfie's study as you wanted to be alone and he was still at work. You're on your hands and knees in front of the fireplace, your face blotched and wet, the tears still coming, flowing from your eyes freely. The sobs came in groups, easing for a bit in cycles, and you stare blankly ahead in the downtime between the waves of grief. The cardigan had fallen off your shoulders, leaving them bare and frigid but you didn't notice. You were now slumped in absolute defeat and agony at the news, your body lay like a tossed rag doll long forgotten in a dark corner. You place your face on the rug, fingers scratching at the rough fibers in desperation as you'd groan and scream through clenched jaws. You're so oblivious to anything but your own pain that you don't hear the sounds of Alfie coming home. 

He walks in, following the sounds of wailing as fast as his feet could carry him. He's shocked that the source is you, head in your hands, on your knees in the floor, crying so hard you were gagging and coughing, hands slapping against the floor as you gasped, trying to catch your breath. 

"My God, Genevieve, what's happened?" he asks immediately words rushed but spoken so tentatively and soft. He slides to his knees next to you pushing your hair back, one hand on your back, a gentle back and forth trying to get you to acknowledge his existence. Him asking what was wrong, the mere thought of having to explain it made it too real and hurt too much and you let out a strangled cry that turns into more sobs. 

His eyes are wide, he'd never seen you like this. He hadn't even been sure you had the capacity to feel things in such a way, but your ability to do so eased his mind in a way, it made you far more human to him. But his concern now was making sure you were alright and to keep you from making yourself sick on the rug. 

You can't form words, there's no use in trying. Your shaking hand slaps onto two pieces of paper, your fingers clenching, crumpling the documents slightly as you push them towards him. 

"You want me to read these?" he asks, making sure of your intentions. This was clearly something personal and he didn't want to cross any lines. You nod your head, still staring at the floor and wheezing.   
He places his body, sitting on his knee's directly against yours, holding the papers in one hand. His arm around your twitching form in an attempt to try to give you any kind of comfort.

The first page is tear stained but still readable, he flattens it against the floor before picking it up again, putting his glasses on and reading. It was an announcement of the death of an Elizabeth Smyth. Died from complications from childbirth at age 22. Survived by her Husband William Smyth. No children. Underneath the formal announcement is handwriting instead of print. 'Due to your blatant disregard of my previous, fair warnings, I am demanding that you do not attend Elizabeth's funeral or any of the events surrounding it. You are banned from any further family gatherings because of your lack of compliance to the rules of the family, and hereby no longer welcome in the Greene Family home. No further contact will be made on this matter as it is final. Do not contact your siblings in regards to this or any other matters in the future. You should sit and be with your own thoughts as to how you've brought this burden upon your family and yourself, and I hope you can find solace in our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ and his teachings to guide you towards better choices in the future. Signed George Greene III.'

George...that was your brother's name he recalled, which must mean this was your father writing this. Which means Elizabeth must've been your sister. He can feel his ribs cracking open as the force with which his heart breaks for you at the realization.

He opens his mouth to speak, he wants to console you, but what on earth could he possibly say to you to help? You clearly knew your father was an evil bastard who deserved to die, that much was painfully obvious. How could a man treat his own daughter in such a way? And such a brilliant, loving, beautiful successful one at that? What kind of monster could even think about doing that to his own child? 

He remembers there's another piece of paper, this one entirely handwritten, front and back. It was sloppy and the ink smudged, penned by a feminine hand. 

My dearest daughter Genevieve, I cannot express my deepest sadness at your father's decision. He has done so with no word to me, and of course without any permission from me as you would expect. I do not and will never support this decision to keep my children apart. I cannot say with words whether spoken or penned at the disappointment and horror at how Elizabeth's death is being handled. He will not speak to me on any matter involving it or you. I have tried and I will continue to try to change his mind, even at the threats of violence that I have already been victim to for my aggressive nature of pursuit in including you in the funeral. You know I am utterly heartbroken at the loss of my youngest daughter, but you, my second youngest, my precious bird that left the nest, are still alive and it crushes my soul for you to receive this news in such a way. If I thought I could call I would, but he has his men watching me night and day and I pray this letter makes it to you. I know you cannot contact me further, but know you are in my heart and soul forever, I will think of you and Elizabeth every day until I die, and even beyond that, I'm certain. I hope it might ease your pain to know the rest of your siblings are distraught at the news of your exclusion. George had cross words with your father over it as did Edward. He wouldn't even see Sara. We are all mourning the loss of both you and Elizabeth, be certain of that. We all love you and have missed you so and wish that circumstances could've been different for all of us. The pain your father has brought to this family, the disgrace and evil he has shown in his true nature over the years are known to more than just us now, as this display of hatred will be heard of to those who ask of you at the funeral. I will not let him slander the name you've made for yourself. I can try to do that much. I hope it comforts you that when Elizabeth and I would speak, we always talk about you. She loved you dearly, the sister who helped raise her and once she learned the truth as to why you left when she was young, she said she hoped she could tell you that she forgave you as soon as she learned the awful things that lead up to your banishment and didn't blame you in the least for leaving. No only being thankful you spared her the ugly truth as a child, even when she physically fought you to stay. This latter memory would make her face light up and her delightful laugh is something I'll never forget. And I pray you do not forget it either. We love you my sweet and we miss you so. Never forget us, as we will never forget you. I hope one day we will meet on good circumstances again my sweet little Lilly. SIgned, Forever your loving mother, Alma.'

He wipes the tears that silently fall down his face before they too join yours on the beautifully written letter. He lays the letter's on the floor, at a complete loss of words for what could've been the first time in his adult life. This wasn't something he could fix. This wasn't something anyone could fix. As words fail him, he simply faces you. "I'm...I'm so sorry luv. I know that don't mean a fuckin' thing but I'm here. I'm here." his voice whispered into your ear as he leans in close, pulling your hair out of your face, the cardigan back up over your shaking shoulders, placing his handkerchief in front of you. 

The words I'm here slice into your chest like a warm knife cutting through butter. The frozen cage of your ribs that contained your ragged feeling heart was pierced by them. You didn't have your family, and he knew that now, got a taste of what your life must've been like growing up. You felt exposed and raw and vulnerable and for the first time that didn't scare you.

You let yourself feel everything, you let the grief envelope you without a fight. The loss of your sister, the loss of your family, what they must be going through, and knowing you weren't at fault but knowing you had done something to set this series of events into motion... you grieve all of it. And with no blood left to console you...out of the smoke emerges Alfie. 

You take his handkerchief and clutch it tightly, wiping at your face, blowing your nose. It smelled just like him and you let out a small, helpless groan at how it gives you just a moments inkling of warmness again. You turn your face to him, just inches from you now, tears falling but your body more still, you take in a sharp ragged breath.

"Alfie." you choke out, it's all you can get out, a plea for help before your face contorts into another ugly sob. 

"Come, come now, sweetheart." he says softly, hands on your arms, pulling you towards him. "Let's sit back here, yeah?" he kindly suggests. He rests his back against the couch, legs spread wide as he pulls you between them and to his chest. His arms feel protective and warm, fighting the chill that you felt down to your bones. His cheek rested on top of your head as he stroked your hair. He couldn't be of much use to you he thought, but he could hold you. Give you support that you were so very clearly lacking from a family that he thought must've adored you just as much as he did, because as far as he was concerned, he didn't understand how anyone could not.

Your sobs are quieter, less violent than they were while you were in his arms. When you would start to cry again, he would kiss your head and close his eyes, rocking you slightly. "Let it out Genevieve. There's no shame in it, pet. Let it out." he'd whisper, thumb rubbing back and forth on your temple as he held your head to his chest, feeling the tears spring forth warm, running down your face and his hands, cooling as they dropped off your chin and his wrist. 

"Oh you're home." Claire says with a slow blink towards Alfie, her face red and blotched as well, clearly feeling the somber mood that was settling across the house. "I brought some tea." she offers, holding the tray out and setting it on the floor next to you. "Since I heard you stop shouting, I thought you might need something for your throat." she says quietly, the least intense Alfie had ever seen her. She gives you a nod and turns to leave, sleeve wiping across her face as she disappears out of sight. 

You nod and sniffle, looking up at Alfie. "'Course, luv, I got it." interpreting what you needed in a single glance. It made more tears fall, but they weren't for the same sad reason, your raw state left you open to his kind gestures and you found yourself more certain of your feelings for him. You knew it wasn't the time to discuss such things, but it made you feel better in a strange way that was new to you.

He pours you a cup of tea, milk, and sugar just how you like, keeping one arm around you the entire time. "You got it?" he asks with quiet concern as your shaking hands hold the cup. You nod and start to sip away at it, it certainly did help. You realize the tea set reminds you of the one Elizabeth had as a child. 

"She didn't even want kids, you know." you rasp out. Alfie is fixing himself a cup and turns his face to you to listen, even if you weren't looking at him. "After Sara had so much trouble conceiving and then with the hard pregnancy and a rough birth of her first Elizabeth was mortified." your head shakes just slightly. "It was expected of her though. Being the sweet thing she was she probably just wanted to make her husband happy." you roll your eyes and a few more tears fall. "I know father always told her she had to have children to make up for me after I left." your voice is becoming clearer, he can feel the hate in the word 'father'. "Now when you grow up you've got to make up for your sister's shortcomings." your head moves as you speak, mocking his words. "Don't be like her, he'd say. As if it was the worst thing in the world she could've done." you let out a ragged sigh. "We need more sweet little obedient girls like you, not more selfish, lying harlots like Genevieve." your face and voice are flat. Devoid of emotion. "He said that to her." you turn to look at him. "At age eleven he said that to her." your damp cheeks shine, your eyes burn with the hate you must harbor for your father. 

Alfie's face burns red, you feel the heat from it. "I like to kill him for what he's done to you." he whispers, eyes burning into yours with no hesitancy. You knew he meant it, you knew he would and the combination of love and hate you saw in his eyes was mesmerizing. 

"So would I darling," you say quietly, setting the cup down and wrapping your arms around his chest, laying your face against him, his heart thumping away. "So would I." you sigh out, closing your eyes as he wraps his arms around you again.   
\-------------  
On the day of Elizabeth's funeral, you stand outside in the garden, looking over the last of the pink and white flowers that she loved so much, now wilting with the incoming cold. You stand outside too long and you start to shiver, so you go inside. 

You distract yourself in the kitchen, you see the delicate tea set that reminds you of her. You see the candied nuts in a jar that she loved. You can't stay here. 

You're going through the trunk of things your mother sent you after you left, you find the old Doll of Elizabeth's she'd snuck in to send you because she said it reminded her of you. You can't stay here either. 

You sit on your bed, shoulders hanging low and let out a tired exhale. You can't stay here at all. You need to get out of the house. Beyond that, you needed to get out of your own mind. The thought of not being there to see her before she was covered forever was too much. You fall back into your destructive old habits far too easily. 

Claire comes with you despite you fighting her over it. You wish she didn't know you so well in this moment so you could fade into obscurity in a hazy crowd and forget who you were. But no, she knew better she said. Sane and sober you would agree with her later.

You dress up, a nice distraction for a short amount of time. Your dress low, the slit in the side high, skin glistening and heavy makeup to mask your features heavily, you go out. You drive until you find a place that pulls you, a club in a not so friendly part of town. Exactly the trouble you were looking for. Claire follows after you, and you don't wait or even look at her while you're weaving through the crowd of people. You find a girl in the bathroom to get some snow off of, already fisting a bottle of whiskey and after that, things got a little blurry. 

Claire very literally runs after you the entire evening. Into bathrooms, into, and into strangers cars. At first, she tried to stop you, talk some sense, but it became clear very quickly that there was no sense in your mind left to talk to. She knew you were grieving, so was she to a much less extent, she just didn't want you hurting yourself or doing something you'd regret later. You're trying to fill a void inside you that throbs and aches, black and vast like the night sky. No batting lashes or soft breasts could distract you beyond a dance or two. You pick more than one fight, and not fairing as well in the second as you had the first. You almost get arrested more than once and Claire begging the policemen, explaining your sister had died, then just plainly running away with you after you'd worn the policemen's patience into nonexistence. When you notice yourself becoming sad, you run to the next vice, cycling through drugs, drinking and sex and violence on repeat. 

Claire was exhausted. You hadn't partied with this sort of speed in ages and she felt you were both far too old to keep up with this pace for the entire night. Your dress is soaked in sweat and so is hers. Yours smelling of various perfumes and whiskey as you rub up against dancing girls and spill your drinks on yourself in your wild, reckless abandon of your civilized behavior. But try as you might, you couldn't drown your demons no matter what you tried to bury yourself in. As you've ventured far into the night, your eyes bloodshot and your mouth dry, your muscles aching and shaking, you cycle back to snow to start another round of deviance. Claire is slipping in her babysitting skills, fading fast as the hours move on into the night, and she rests for just a moment too long, and you've jumped into a car with strangers and you're out of sight before she can even reach the curb to make out the model of the car or be able to describe the driver to the police. 

She feels tears burn in her eyes, knowing she's failed you, and herself. She admits defeat, heading to Alfie's club. She finds he isn't there, but Ollie is and he lets her use the phone in his office. She calls the house, and in a trembling, exasperated voice she asks for Alfie.

"Claire?" he asks, highly confused, which she understood.

"Alfie...I hope you haven't settled in for the night yet because I'm afraid I need your assistance." he can tell she's trying to hide her emotion in her voice. He also knew that your sisters funeral was today, and the hell you were out trying to raise would be as impressive as it was destructive and apparently you had bested Claire this evening. 

"What's she done?" he asks, voice annoyed but not angry.

"I've lost her." she admits defeat with her tone and her body language as her head rests on the desk in front of her with a thud.

"You lost her?" he asks, not meaning to sound scolding. 

"She got out of my sight and hopped into a car before I could even see who she was with." her voice is so sad and tired, he feels terrible for Claire. 

"Alright." he huffs out, brow furrowed. "Where'd ya last see her?"

"Outside of the Paradise club."

"Oh hell, she has taken ya for a ride tonight."

"You have no fucking idea." she almost laughs at the absurdity of the night she's had. 

"Right. Well I'm out my way out, I'll be lookin' for her and if I find her I'll bring her home, yeah?" he wasn't sure where to look, seeing as Claire was at his club he knew you weren't there and that's where he would've looked first. 

"I just lost control of her, Alfie. She's not human tonight, be careful."

"I got it, luv. I'll find the little snake." he tries to be comforting but his thoughts are on you and your safety as he hastily makes his way out the door.   
\-----  
Hours pass, he has men out looking for you as well at this point. He's beyond concerned, imagining finding you washed up somewhere, beaten, robbed and raped. All the worst possible outcomes swimming around his head behind his heavy brow that was furrowed so deeply for so long he wasn't sure if his face would go back to normal. He's miles away from where you were last seen. But you could've been on a ship to another country for all he knew. So he had his men check that as well.

He's driving down the jewelry quarter, thinking that your love of the shiny baubles might sound pleasant to your grieving, pissed self. And lucky for him, he was right. 

"There she fuckin' is!" he growls out to his driver, pointing up the street, leaning back inside the car as he'd been driving around, almost half hanging out the window. "Swear on me fuckin' mum this woman is gonna be the fuckin' death of me. Running off like some fuckin scared little child from her problems." he says it in anger, but as he processes the words he says, he realizes that's exactly what you were tonight. You'd reverted back to your immature behavior to grasp at any semblance of happiness you might've had at the time. His instinct is to be angry, how dare you do this to him? But that would be selfish given the circumstances, wouldn't it? The fire in his chest, that anger building all night with every turn down every street that didn't bring him to you falters. Anger was always his go-to emotion when he felt defensive, but as you became more clear as the car approached, the strings of his heart were given a very strong tug by your appearance. 

You're wondering how the hell you got so far away from the part of town you originally went to. You don't know where Claire is, or why she's not with you. You stare out across the damp cobblestone streets, the scattered lamp posts reflecting off the dirty surfaces. The side by side buildings pushed together all tower over you, their windows, looking like yellow judgmental filled eyes stare down at you in your shameful state. 

You're sitting on a curb by a lamppost in front of the most expensive jewelry shop in the city. You're sucking on a sweet that you'd gotten down at the shops and you're trying to make sense of the mist that had been the night you just had. You felt better after you'd thrown up a few times, got some food in you at a small pub and you'd just walked with no destination. You didn't know what else to do. Your whole body ached, beyond that you felt shame and guilt and defeat. You'd just let yourself give in to your demons and that wasn't like you. So here you are, sitting and pondering what your next step will be to get home. Your dress torn and filthy, shoes having lost all the ornamentation that had been there at the beginning of the night. Your fingernails are caked in dirt around the cuticle and underneath, you know your face must look even worse, as you can feel a busted lip and bruises as well. Your elbows are on your knee, bent up, fingers around the stick of the sweet as you hear his booming voice shout at you.

"Fuckin' hell Genny..." he says groans, stomping out of his car. 

"Oh, shit." you say aloud, your eyes going wide. He'd been out looking for you. The bile in your throat bubbles, you feel so embarrassed. 

"Oh shit is fuckin' right." he scolds, looming over you, but he sees your watery eyes, the beaten state of you, both emotionally and physically his lips, pulled tightly together under his mustache, being pulled so hard into a frown they almost touch his creased brow start to lose their tension. "Fuckin' hell Genny..." he says in a much different tone than the first. "What the fuck are ya doin'?" he says, chin pushing out towards you, his eyes wide and questioning. 

"I don't know." you answer honestly.

He stands in silence, lips tight and nostril flared and exhaling noisily, you keep giving him the puppy dog eyes and he reluctantly falls for it. "You don't seem terribly drunk." he says with an outward motion of his hand.

"No... just terrible." you shake your head and sigh.

"You ready to come home now?" he asks with a sarcastic tone, lips still pursed but not angry, holding his hand out to you.

"Yes." you answer breathily, taking his hand, he pulls you into his chest, wrapping an arm around you. He pushes your messy hair out of your face.

"You've almost sent me to an early grave worryin' 'bout you tonight, luv. Thought you was dead in the gutter somewhere. The more time went on the more certain I was." his voice is light and soft, not sweet but painfully honest with the emotion laced through it. His eyes look tired, you see the red spots on his neck from his nervous picking at his skin. He watches your eyes look him over, his doing the same to you.

"I let my demons win tonight Alfie." you say weakly, averting your eyes from his in shame. "I'm sorry." you whisper, your forehead against his chest.

He takes a deep breath, eyes darting around the road before the roll at how pitiful you were being. He didn't want you apologizing to him, not really. He just wanted you to be safe. 

"Well it's over now, innit?" he lifts your face by your chin with gentle fingers. "You're safe and sober with me. As you should be." he runs his hand through your hair and lets out a loud sigh, the same hand pressing you against his chest. "Just don't disappear like that again, Gen. My poor old heart can't take it." he says almost humorously, you feel him kiss the top of your matted head.

"I'm sorry. I really am." your voice still sad and on the verge of a whimper.

"I know you are, luv." he moves to step away, an arm around your shoulders as he moves you towards the car. "Let's get you home and cleaned up and all cozy, yeah?"

"Will you stay with me tonight? You're not too angry with me are you?" you ask, eyes on the cobblestones as you pass them on the walk to his car.

"Angry innit the right word." he shakes his head. "Don't you worry, luv, right?" he gives you the high eyebrows to emphasize his point. "You don't even have to ask if I'll stay with ya now do ya? Ridiculous. I'll be watchin' ya all night and I don't intend on goin' no fuckin' where tomorrow neither."

"Thank you for not yelling at me." you say quietly, his heart breaks when he sees the dejected look on your face as he slides into the car next to you. You really were hurting. A shadow of your normal self. Who was he to judge you and how you dealt with such a degree of loss? He knew he probably wouldn't have handled it much better. 

"The last thing you need is me shoutin' at ya after the week you've had." you curl up into his side under his arm, and doze off, feeling that same safe, warm feeling flush across your skin again. It was certainly a new sensation and you were starting to truly welcome it instead of denying its existence.


	44. Hold On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song for the chapter is Hold On by The Peach Kings.

The sun was setting, giving it's last light through the windows behind you as you sat in your bed. The first extended amount of time you'd been left alone since Alfie had brought you back home. 

He'd kept his word, staying with you all night. Having a protective arm around you when Claire inevitably came charging at you as soon as you walked in the front door, her voice loud and accusing and defensive. How could you put her through that? Why would you act like such a child? All valid and probably deserved questions, but Alfie holds his hand out, the other squeezing your upper arm as he keeps you moving towards your bedroom. 

"She's had enough for tonight Claire, right?" he says in a strong tone. Claire blinks fast, taken back by his defense of you as she expected him to be even angrier than she was. "She's apologized, yeah? She's not herself, you should know her best to be able to recognize that." he scolds as he escorts you to your bedroom. 

Claire stays back, still wanting to yell, still feeling hurt herself, but it all was just a side effect of her grief and her sense of failure for not protecting you through yours. She retires for the night, hitting the bottle hard and crying it out alone. As she usually preferred to do. 

So Alfie is an absolute gentleman the whole night, through giving you a good scrub in the bath to wrapping you up in something warm and soft and having tea and biscuits taken to your room as he hops in your tub to have a bath himself after having the worry and sweat and grime of the city on him from chasing after you. You're exhausted, wiped out completely, full of warm tea and affection, you fall asleep beside him, you on your stomach, hand out holding his, resting near his thighs, fingers interlaced and pressed against your lips as they pout and hum as you sleep. He sits up and reads to help ease his nerves before he can also fall asleep.   
He'd woken you up by brushing your hair back, a single kiss to your forehead announcing he was getting breakfast for you both and instructing you to stay where you were. You ate together, and he'd brought paperwork in with him to look over as you slept. You didn't want to be awake, you didn't want to think or do anything actually. Everything ached. Not just your body from the abuse of the night before, but your heart hurt, radiating out into your chest. Your brain throbbing, sluggish in its attempt to have normal functions as the heavy blanket of grief lay over it. He doesn't judge, he lets you rest, a warm hand touching you periodically on your shoulder and hip, a quick pat to let you know he was there and to check you were still alive as your breath was very shallow and your body still as a frozen lake. Tears fell silently, sometimes not so silently, his face falling when he'd hear the sniffles and see your ribs expand and shake while you purged your emotions. He never shushed you, merely lay a hand on your shoulder, and if you were awake and not crying in your sleep, you'd lift your hand to rest over his, finger intertwining for a moment as you'd let out a ragged breath in your attempt at composure. How would you have kept yourself in one piece during all this if he hadn't been around, you wondered? 

Now with no Aggie, no Alfie in the room with you, you're sat up against the headboard, knees to your chest as your face is chilled from the cold night air coming through the windows to caress your damp cheeks. He's gone off to find a favorite book of his to read to you, having finished his work as you'd slept already and still not wanting to leave you alone he thinks perhaps it would be comforting to you to do such a thing. 

So you have the bottle of wine upturned in his absence. The pain already creeping back up from your chest to your head again. Everything still hurt. You just wanted to feel something besides this pain. You're sad about Elizabeth, you're worried about your father, you're fearful of your feelings about Alfie. You're ashamed of what you did the night before. There are too many things weighing down on you at once and you just want to feel lighter, less defeated and to find a brief solace from this unbearable amount of pain that you feel in every level of your being. 

You weren't about to turn to hard drugs again, the wine giving you enough of a warm buzz to ease the cold tingling in your hands, feet, and face. You look to the bottle in your hand and sigh heavily, setting it in the floor by the bed where Alfie wouldn't see. You pick at the edges of your nightgown at your thighs, chewing your lip in thought. You didn't want to be unkind to your body any longer, that wasn't helping things. So your mind turns to how you could be kind to it instead. Your eyes move to the pulled to door of your bedroom, there was another thing you always did when you felt such despair. You feel the tension between your legs makes itself known. You realized it'd been over a week now since you'd slept with Alfie or even touched yourself. That raw need starts to bubble up into your stomach. It fights against the pain that sits in your chest. How could you express what you needed? You'd been doing nothing but crying in the presence of the man, you didn't even know if he'd want to touch you in such a way. But as he reenters the room, trousers sitting low on his hips, his shirt totally unbuttoned and only on for the time being to protect from the chill in the stone walls and to show some ounce of modesty your nose twitches at the sight of him. 

You want that heavy masculine body on yours. You want it to crush the pain out of you and fill you back up with pleasure. You want him to take away all the thoughts in your head with the well-educated movements of his lips, hands, and hips. You realize what you need is him. 

"I hope you don't mind I got a book that you've already read. You love this Oscar Wilde, yeah?"

You nod, your face showing indifference, but your eyes seemed more focused than they had been. 

"I ain't read it but I know you put it in my study for me to read and it seems we got a bit 'a time right now so I figured why the fuck not, if Genny loves it, how bad can it be?" he gives you a laugh as he slides into bed next to you. He expects you to move in some way, not to snuggle up to him or anything but just show that you recognize he's next to you. He hated seeing you so devoid of life and joy. he reaches out as you take a slow, deep breath and stretch your legs out in front of you, a hand landing on your thigh innocently. "Ya alright there, luv?" he asks with hesitation in his voice. 

You knew your eyes had to be puffy from crying, your face dry and sad. It wasn't the best you'd looked, but this wasn't really about that, was it? His hand doesn't leave you, the warm comfort from it seeping into your skin and up your thigh to make the need you felt grow, your eyes flutter shut for a moment. You move to kneel next to him, hand on your knee's as he studies you curiously. You wet your lips before you speak. 

"I...need something from you Alfie."

He head tilts, he sits the book down on the nightstand. "What's that?" his voice is calm and even and comforting as you always found it. 

"You." you say softly, eyes and face down towards the bed. You felt unsure of yourself but certain of your needs. 

"Me what?" He'd waited a few moments to ask, though you'd just not finished your sentence. 

You move your eyes to his now, knowing you were being too subtle, he couldn't read your mind."No, I need you."

His brow furrows. "I'm right here, sweetheart, what is it?" you could tell he wasn't on the same page as you and no sane person would be after the few days you'd had. He lifts up his arm to usher you near him. But instead, you move and sit in his lap and you see the understanding come across his face and unfortunately the hesitation as well. His hands rest on your hips lightly, not wanting to make you feel unwanted. 

"I don't want to use things to help me forget how I feel right now. I want to be used myself."

"Babes, you're still heartbroken. You've been cryin' all day you're not yourself, luv."

"You knowing that I'm not myself is what makes me so sure you're what I need." your hands are running down his chest, fingers touching the edges of the fabric of his open shirt. "You know me, you know how to make me forget this pain that's stuck in my head. It's all I can think about and I need desperately for it to stop. If only for a moment I need to not be me in this moment. Instead, I need to be yours."

"Luv, I-" he isn't sure what you even mean exactly, the words are expressed for honestly and your eyes are brimming with many emotions he isn't sure how to interpret. "What is it exactly that you think you need me for?" his brows are knitted, studying your expressions. 

"I want you to take me over. Make all my decisions for me, I don't want to think anymore. I'm so tired of thinking." your eyes close and your head shakes just slightly. "I need you to not be tender," you whisper. "That isn't' what I need from you right now. Tender won't make me forget." your hands are on his chest, running up to his shoulders, repositioning yourself on his hips. "My body isn't fragile...only my mind." your hands trail down the sleeves of his shirt, your lace your fingers into his and hold them to your chest. "I want you to use my body. Make my mind forget. Give me no choice but to only be able to focus on you." your eyes coldly meet his.   
"Make it so the only thing that I can think of is you...your hands on my naked skin...your lips against mine. Make me feel something good again." you ask softly.

"Gen, is this really the time? Are you sure you want me to do this? Now?" his chin pushes into his chest slightly, eyes still moving over you and questioning. 

"No one can make me feel pleasure to the capacity you can, Alfie." your voice growing more desperate. "Make me feel like a helpless woman in a powerful man's arms. Because that's what I am for you right now. A woman begging you." you gulp loudly, begging not being something you did or suggested lightly, and the way his eyes blink slowly you know he realizes the significance of your choice of words. "And you're a....strong man Alfie." you almost whine, hand back to his warm skin on his chest, feeling his heartbeat underneath you. "I need that strength right now. Show me. Remind me of what a man you are." your hands move to either side of his face. His nostrils flared as your words work against his hesitancy to fulfill your requests of him. It wasn't that he didn't want to, he just didn't want to take advantage of you. "Make me feel small. Like I have nothing else to care about in the world but how you're making me feel." 

"If this is what you want Genvieve." he puts his hand over yours on the side of his face. 

"It's what I need, Alfie." your eyes burn into his. "Make a mess of me. Leave me breathless and thoughtless. Tongue lolling out of my mouth and at your command. Because I'll obey. Use this time of weakness to your advantage, be ruthless, use me. I need you to make me forget Alfie." you take a shaky inhale, wetting your lips, your hand now taken in his as he holds it against his chest, the other slowly moving up your arm to hold the side of your face. "Please." you whisper close to his lips. 

"Please?" he says aloud without thinking. You'd never said please before. Not to him anyway. You've never begged for anything and he didn't know you even could. Here you were. Wanting him to dominate you. You'd come to the end of your power, just needing a forced release to regain composure through losing it to someone else first. God, he'd wanted you powerless in his arms for so long, wanted to fuck you senseless, precisely how you were begging him to. 

"Please." you say again as his thumb runs over your bottom lip. You feel the groan building in his chest as you pressed against it. 

"Beg me." his eyes go dark as the meet yours again. You felt the ache begin inside you for him. 

"Please, Alfie. I'm weak to you, I need you, I can't do this on my own. I need you to tell me what to do. I can't act in my own interests, can I?"

"No you can't." his voice is dark and deep, moving across your face like a gentle caress before a hard hit. "You want me to use you, little one?"

"Yes, please. Don't be gentle." you move your face closer to his, nuzzle your nose against his, he stays still. You can feel him building up for you, know it's coming and you need it. "Show me that Alfie Solomons everyone fears. I know you're soft side. Let me experience the hard."

"I don't know if you can take it. You're such a sad little thing aren't you?" he sneers and your eyelashes flutter at the recognition he's giving in to your needs. "Can't even have any free thoughts of your own, can you? Weak thing like you can't handle the responsibility can she?" he feels your body tense willingly, a slight shudder that goes straight to his groin.

"I can't. I'm helpless aren't I?" as the words fell you could feel the tension lessening in your body. 

"Absolutely fucking helpless." the Alfie that had won your heart wasn't there in his eyes when you looked now. But the Genevieve that had conquered his wasn't behind yours anymore either. He grunts, the hand that was comforting on the side of your face now moving to grip your jaw tightly. "Certainly don't deserve to be sitting on on top of me like this." he hisses with a narrowing of his eyes. "You've earned being at the bottom haven't you?" he growls as he moves forward, making you lift of off him. 

"Lay down on your fucking back." he whispers before he releases your face harshly, shaking it in the direction of the bed. 

He looks down at you like he's disgusted with you and you crave more. He sees your eyes meeting his and they narrow maliciously. "You've not earned eye contact yet." you obey so quickly and completely, complete with shame across your face and he feels himself getting hard already. 

Even being submissive you had the power to affect him in such a way. It was the most confusing feeling of yearning he'd ever experienced. He'd been dominate before, sure. Plenty of times he'd told women what to do in bed, but as it always did with you...it felt different this time. Perhaps because the women he'd done such things to before hadn't been as powerful as you. They'd really had no choice but to bend to him. But you didn't. You were more than capable of flipping and making him weak for you. But you were submitting to him completely. Never thought he'd hear of you submitting in totality to a man ever. And in a way that he had to push totally aside, for now, he felt deeply touched by the gesture from you.

You quickly avert your eyes from his, hands by your side and face turned away, knees bent and waiting for further instruction. You were already distracted and he'd only used his words against you. You were quivering with anticipation for him to use his body against you as well. 

He moves slowly, steadily as he kneels at your feet. Strong hands moving slowly up your feet to wrap around your ankles, readjusting his fingers that held firm against you. He parts your legs, resting his trouser covered thighs against your bare ones. He says nothing, doesn't look at your face, but watching his hands move across your bare skin, hands matched at either side of your legs, running up together and moving the hem of your nightgown up to reveal the soft fabric covering his intended target. He leaves one hand firm against the curve of your hip, thumbs rubbing back and forth as the fingers of the other hand trace along the edges of your panties. "You really are such a delicate little thing, you know that?" you don't respond as he moves to grip the hip of your underwear. "Just like these." his voice is deep and steady, both hands moving to grip the fabric, ripping it on one side, then the other with no trouble at all. You felt the urge for those hands to be elsewhere, being forceful and metaphorically tearing you apart. "You're not going to need these anymore." he says casually, throwing them across the room without watching where they landed. "Not if I'm in control now." He raises and moves up your body, his weight settled on one hand by your head. "Because I plan on using you for the pretty little fuck doll you are tonight. Just a gorgeous face aren't you?" his lips twitch into almost a snarl, hand moving up your chest to your neck, lingering just long enough for him to feel you swallow, see your eyes shut with the need for more. He holds your chin again, making you look at him. "Just a helpless little doll." he tsks. "No thoughts in that pretty little head at all. Hmmm?" you shake your head no. "But she is a good girl innit she?" you blink slowly at him, your eyes wide and holding an innocence that he hadn't expected. You really did want this. "You answer when I ask you a question." you whimper and nod in response. He moves so fast, a slap to your cheek in return for an answer. "Let's try that again. Only one more chance sweetheart." that condescending tone oozes out of his lips with his words. "Are you going to be a good girl for Alfie tonight? Might I remind you good girls get what they want? In case you've forgotten. You can be such an aloof little thing, can't you?" 

"Yes." His eyes narrow, lips pursing just slightly. "Yes....sir?" the uncertainty shows in your face for the answer he wants, but when you see the sly grin spread across his lips you know you've gone with a safe choice.

"Sir will work just fine." he nods, smugness over his face. "Perhaps she does have some cleverness in her, eh? You only concern yourself with listening to me and being a good girl, yeah?"

You nod. "Yes, sir." you respond softly. 

You'd never had anyone make you feel so small with only words before, only physical domination. But of course he was better with words than any man you'd ever met before, so it shouldn't surprise you. 

"I'm going to assume you can do nothing on your own correctly." his brow quirks, "Due to your behavior the past few days." his voice dips, a look full of judgment that makes your cheeks burn shot down at you. "I won't even trust you can get wet by yourself tonight." he says disappointedly. 

He grabs your hips with hands, flipping you onto your stomach, moving you as he pleases with ease, adding to the feeling of being weak to him. He pulls you up by the hips. "That's right, stick that sweet arse up in the air like you want it." his voice is darker now, you move your hands up near your face, your chest on the bed. He gives a hard slap to your raised hips and you wince just slightly. "Gorgeous." he purrs, slapping the other side, hands grasping at the wobbling flesh and shaking it harshly. He switches from spanks to one side then the other, your flesh stinging and turning pink under his touch. You hear a groan escape his chest from behind you. 

He lays his body over yours, forcing your hips down, he pulls your hair, bringing your head back. "Turn towards my hand." he instructs and you do so, twisting slightly to your elbows to reach the laid out forearm near you. "Open your mouth." You obey him without hesitation and he wants to groan with need. "Stick out that pink little tongue." he almost whispers. "Lovely sight that is." he groans, his thumb rubbing across the slick surface. "Maybe I'll fuck this pretty little mouth before I'm finished with you tonight." he gives a few hard pats to your cheek before extending his fingers to place on your tongue. "Before I get to that bit of fun I'm going to make sure you're nice and wet for me, yeah? Don't want to do any more damage to my delicate kitten than's already been done." his tone cuts into you, shaming you. "Take my wrist in those little paws of yours dear." you obey, fingers wrapping gently around the thick wrist and forearm. "Now suck on my fingers. Get 'em nice and wet for me." you suck one rough fingertip into your mouth. Head bobbing, tongue swirling just as if it were his cock. Your eyes flutter shut, opening wide to lick away at him from knuckle to nail. He interuppts the lapping away at him by pinching down with his middle and ring fingers on your tongue, holding your chin roughly and your eyes open again. You feel him growing hard against your sensitive skin as he ruts against you subtly, the fabric of his trousers creating friction. "You're enjoying yourself a bit too much there dear." his face isn't as cruel but it is still patronizing. His nose twitches, finger pushing into your mouth and gagging you slightly. "I said nice and wet. I meant..." his lips snarl as he leans in closer, his fingers jamming into your mouth and almost back to your throat. "Nice...and fuckin'....wet." he growls, using the reaction to the gagging to make you salivate, spit now messy and sticking from your panting lips to his fingers. "That's a good girl." he leans up and pats the side of your face roughly again before grabbing your hair and pushing you back into the bed. 

He leans back on his feet as you gasp to recover, raising your hips again, he slaps the inside your thighs to spread your legs apart. "Open up and let me see that little cunt, Genny." he gives a few hard slaps to your center, as you expose yourself to him. 

His hand spreads your apart, fingertips gripping into the soft fleshy bits around the meeting of your thighs. He slides his wet fingers up and down your slit, you let out a heavy exhale on the contact. Fingers moving from top to bottom and back again, pinching your clit between two fingers before lining your opening but not sinking further. 

You let a small moan escape, his eyes move slowly from his hands to your face. He can see how your teeth are trying to hold your lips shut, trying not to make a sound. You move your head to the side, cheek still on the bed.

"You can let me know how good it feels." he instructs, his face not reading angry now, just a calm and powerful observer. He sees the tension in your jaw lessen, your plump lips part. He pushes one finger into you, "Does it feel good, pet?" his voice still deep but lacking the snarl it had held previously. He presses his hand against you with steady force, slowly in and out, enough to feel good but not enough to feel satisfied. 

"Yes, sir." you exhale softly, eyes fluttering shut. 

"I know it does." he says in a darker tone. He pushes in two fingers downward, and he did know where to touch you to elicit a response. He sees your chest rise and fall noticeably with the slight bend of your brow, a light twitching of your fingers against the sheets. He pushes harder, slow and deep steadily as you arch your back for more. "I know just how to make it feel good, don't I, luv? Alfie knows what you need, doesn't he?" he whispers, leaning over you but not touching you, just his hand pounding steadily into you.

"Yes you do." you admit with a whimper.

He curls his fingers, you feel them dragging across your walls, drawing across your most sensitive spot and you moan. 

"I know just where to push..." he hooks into you so harshly it jolts your hips and your eyes roll, another moan from your lips. "Don't I?"

"Yes you do. Right there." you whimper.

"Right here?" he pushes harder, knuckles of his other fingers pressing into with the pressure he knew you craved. 

"Yes sir." you pant.

"Does this make you want to come all over these thick fingers, deep in this tight little cunt?" he growls, pulling and jerking you almost violently, but it felt so good. 

"Yes sir." you whine, fingers grasping into the sheets. With that he withdraws his fingers, a hard slap to one of your cheeks follows and you tense and shake at the missing touch. 

"Not yet." he spits out at you. "Not until I've made you beg me for it." his hand clasps down on you again, fingers digging into your skin. He pulls apart your cheeks, you hear another growl and then a broad lick from clit to hole to hole. He sinks his thumb into you, his mouth dwelving in and lapping away at your clit. You can feel him moaning and growling against the sensitive wet flesh, thumb pressing into you, the palm of his hand pushing against you in the most satisfactory way. You spread your legs father subconsciously, wanting more of him, causing yourself to lower to the bed. "No ya don't." you hear growled out, lying on his stomach as he spreads your legs into a split and dives his face almost violently back into you, humming around your swollen bundle of nerves. His hand splayed wide on your ass, holding you apart and kneading away aggressively. 

You hips start to buck back at him, and lucky for you both you were so flexible to do so as he let's out a deliciously bad intentioned laugh as he bites at your lips, another spank to your ass as he sucks your clit into his mouth harshly. The feeling of your muscles being stretched adds to the pleasure, everything taut and tensing, the sudden squeezes with every hard slap to your bum and thighs as he gripped into you with his nails, leaving stinging crescent moons behind. 

It did hurt, it burned and stung and made you convulse violently with pleasure with the intensity...but that's exactly what you'd wanted. You wanted the pain mixed in with the pleasure. Your hands grip the sheets with white knuckles from the strain, your mouth open and panting against the soft fabric of the sheets. Planting your hands and shoulders, you move your hips against his face earning a deep groan and another firm slap from him. You bounce your ass against his face and you feel his press even farther into you, shaking his head back and forth, tongue lashing about as you moan out for him.

He pulls back with a deep breath "'At's it, act like you fuckin' want it." he hisses out before attaching his soft lips to your clit again. He feels your thighs tremble as his hands hold them tightly, and he pulls away without warning. You do shudder and whine louder this time, a small needy whimper that tells him he's doing what he intends to. "You're getting there aren't you?" that sexy laugh, loud and confident hits your ears and your cheeks flush. He pulls your hips up again, thumb circling your clit, two fingers inside you and working away again, building you back up. He leans down and bites at your thighs, nipping and licking his way to the red splotches across the span of your lower half. He licks and then blows, making you squirm from the mixture of sensations, his grunts of enjoyment, peppered with evil laughs everytime you whimper and wiggle. 

The combination of the current plan of attack he's working away on you builds you faster as you push back against him, head now held up off the bed as you focus on the feeling. He keeps slowly pushing deeper, harder, the smacks growing just the same. You finally break, crying out as the hit of hand takes you past your skins threshold for the abuse, he mixes in softness with the hardness as his kisses across your lower back, you can feel his breathing heavier when he grits his teeth and groans with his forehead pressed against you, you hope he gives in soon. 

Your orgasm starts to build again, and he feels that tremor across your body and stops, his thumb rubbing up and down your slit and beyond and back again, teasing solid pressure leaving you wondering if he had intentions on trying something he hadn't before with you tonight by the way his thumb circled around the more taboo of your two holes. He had yet to do something to you that you didn't like, so you trust in his approach, letting any outside thoughts go, and just take in the sensations he was gifting you. 

He watches your muscles tense and release, licking his lips at the site. You hear the rustle of him unfastening his pants and you can't help but make a noise of want. "Even the thought of my cock has you twitching you dirty girl." He rakes his nails up your legs, thumbs rubbing circles as he holds your hips. You can feel the heat radiating off his body, biting your lip at the thought that he's so close. 

He grips himself in his hand, hand stroking slowly, bottom lip hanging loose as he takes in the sight of you. He smacks himself against the valley of your cheeks first, and you whine. "This what you want?" his voice low and slow, feeling like it crept up your spine. 

"Yes sir." you say a little too enthusiastically. 

"You are answering in the proper way, little one." he drags the head of his cock up and down the same line he'd been flirting with the entire night, stopping to knock himself against your clit, then continuing again. "By the sight of you I'd say you may desperately need it." his voice grows gruff and gritty, you can hear the desire in it as he keeps sliding across your slick middle creases. 

"I do." you tense and he grunts, lip twitching as you drip for him. "I want it so very badly." you admit with a whine of honesty in your voice, keeping it weak and submissive so he'd give in. 

He lets go of himself, hands slapping your hips, moving them back towards him. "Then come get it, luv." he says in a teasing tone. Another pull of your hips towards him before he moves his hands away from your body. You push back, searching for him and find him, you swivel and dip and bounce and try to get him inside you, and when you've had enough you move to reach your hand back and he slaps it away, moving to pin both your hands down to the bed. "I didn't say you could do that could I?" he hisses close to your ear.

"No sir." you pout and you don't even mean to, you're fully immersed and he knows it. 

"Good girl," he says coldly, raising up again. "Try again?" and you're met with the same slippery and evasive pleasure that you sought after. You let out a little, annoyed mewl of a sound. "Poor dear..." he tsks. "Can't even get fucked properly on her own, can she?" he strokes himself and starts to rub against your now aching lips again. He sees your body slump and knows his words are working. "You want me to help you with that?"

You nod and arch your back for him. "Yes sir." your hips wiggle at him just slightly and he lets out a rumbling laugh.

"You'll have to be more specific darling, what do you need my help with?" both his hands trace lightly over your hips, teasing and taunting you. 

"Please fuck me Alfie. Please." your eyes roll back in your head at the frustration your body feels, your eyes shut tight, your face giving away your frustration. How could he deny you after you said it like that?

Without warning he slides into you, forcing a guttural moan out of your body as you push your head into the bed, relishing in the feeling. "This what you need Genny?"

"Yes!" you moan loudly into the sheets, hands back to gripping tightly.

"Need my cock? Filling you up like this. Stretching this tight little cunny." he groans out the last few words, hands regripping your hips, burying himself in you. "Fuck you are tight tonight, luv." one of his hands runs up your spine, pushing your nightgown up and over you to get to the bare skin underneath, nail raking down causing you to shiver. 

"Because you're so thick." you moan out, not even caring how indulgent it sounded. 

"Praise ain't gonna get ya what ya want, pet." he laughs, one hard slam into you that elicits a high pitched gasp from your lips. "Should I fuck her hard or slow?" he says aloud, hands still grazing over the welted skin of your ass. 

"However pleases you." you whimper out, head knocking back with each hard thrust, your mouth already hanging open. 

"Seems I've fucked some sense into you," he growls, picking up the pace, watching your body react to him and he's glad you can't see his face because it'd give away just how good you felt around him. "Maybe...if I fuck you hard enough, it'll make you learn to act right, eh?" a condescending laugh rolls over you, making you tense around him. "Bit far fetched though, innit?" he grunts out in a deep voice, forgoing further talking and pounding into you mercilessly. You didn't know about fucking anything into you but he was fucking every breath out of you. You didn't swear or form any real words, just let your body take the beating, welcoming it as he gives you another hard slap to your ass and you cry out, thighs shaking as you become overwhelmed, tensing from pain and then so quickly replaced with the amazing feeling of him inside you. "Even if you can't behave, your cunt can still take me like a fuckin' dream." he growls, more little red crescents into your skin from the force he kept hitting into you with. "This is what you're best at innit? Getting fucked by me?" another slap, another squeal. 

"Yes, Alfie, yes." you managed out between moans and gasps. "S'all I'm good at." you whimper out.

"Good thing you're so fucking good at it, yeah? Takin' my cock...what else use I got for ya?" more mean words to fuel the shame that you've only allowed yourself to be aroused by a few times in your life, and certainly never to this extent. He wasn't going the lazy route of name calling, he was inside your head. He understood what made you tick and knew how to seduce your mind and body with his words alone. You were thankful he was no longer just using the words to fuck with you. 

You couldn't respond, you were past verbal, focused on the intensity growing between your thighs, ugly, genuine moan after noisy gasping breath, you got closer to getting off. 

"Ya gonna fuckin' answer me?" he slaps you again and you cry out. 

"Can't...ugh....too good." you admit, eyes fluttering behind your lashes, giving up on playing a role. 

He lets out a cackle of pure amusement, a loud and sudden sound, "And I thought you were learnin' to like getting fucked slowly." he tsks again. "But no....still the same bad girl you've always been. Wanting it harder...faster..." he pants, when he spoke he'd get himself too close to the edge and this wasn't going to be the end of this tonight. When he had a job to do he was going to see it through to its rightful end. "Fuck, Genny." he groans, pulling out and flipping you over unexpectedly. 

You're now face to face, he sees the cock drunk desperation in your eyes and it fuels him, he reaches up and grabs you by the throat. "You think you get to come on my cock already? Silly girl." he grabs the neckline of your gown and pulls it hard, the straps strain against your shoulders and it rips as he frees your chest. "Good thing you're a spoiled brat with fifty of these little fuckin' sexy things." he moves and slaps one of your breasts, causing your shoulders to shift in response. He pushes down harder on you with his body, you feel him heavy against your lower stomach, wet and twitching. His hand squeezes tighter on your neck, enough to make you gulp, but you welcomed it. "You know how fuckin' hard it was on me when I first got here, yeah? Having to see these...." he hisses grabbing one, then your other breast hard, shaking it followed by a slap that your nipples give away the effect it has on you. "And this..." he moans, yanking your thigh up and grabbing a handful of your ass and shaking it. "Walkin' around in these silky little teases al'l the fuckin' time?" he growls, leans down, mouth near your ear. "You know how hard...." he groans, rutting against you. "that is for a man to deal with?" his voice is raspy and you feel the heat of his breath against your skin and you moan, although muffled slightly by the grip on your throat. "Those gorgeous legs..." he runs a hand from your calf up to your hip, "This bouncy arse of yours..." another slap to make you grunt. "And these fucking tits..." he moans out. "Fuckin' hell, these big fuckin' tits." he licks your ear, panting into it and you squirm against him, wanting contact, the praise, this softness he mixed with the harshness made your head spin and you wanted more. "I'd dream about these bouncing baubles of yours, ya know." he whispers, "I'd wake up and be covered in the consequence of what you'd done to me in those dreams. Filthy fuckin' things, luv. Absolutely sinful." he raises back, seeing your chest heaving now, your lips wet and parted, wanting to beg for him. "And I come to find you're even more of a devil in bed than I ever dreamed." his lip snarls at you, he gives your face a few hard pats to the cheek. "You're fucking filthy Genevieve. An absolute vixen. A succubus. Starved for it weren't ya?" his eyes narrow and you nod in complete agreement. "Even now you're are just eatin' up whatever I'll throw your way innit ya?" his hand regrips and squeezes on your neck as you try to nod again. He lets out another deep dark laugh that makes your eyes roll back in your head everytime you hear it. "Dirty, dirty girl." he groans, the need obvious in his voice now. "But now the little minx has got herself in a trap innit she?" he grins, a tilt of his head. "And I get to do whatever I want to her." he slaps both your breasts again. "And you'll fuckin' love every bit of it. Won't ya pet?" that wolfish smile beams down at you as he releases your throat and you catch your breath.

"Yes sir." you rasp out.

"Fuck." he groans out, dragging out the word with grit and desire. He grabs your chest tightly, sucking one of your nipples into his mouth as the other twists the unattended one. You squeak, chest heaving against his face as he feels a moan rumbling inside you. He bites down on the hardened nub, causing a sharp gasp from you. "Too hard?" he says, lapping away at it, eyes looking up to you.

"No sir." your voice is deeper now, you've surpassed the total meek stage and now you want to be that little minx for him. 

Another devilish grin, he pulls back, and to your surprise spits on you as he sees the darkness in full bloom in your eyes, batting away at your breasts in hard slaps. "C'mere you fuckin' bad...bad little girl." his hands move you so easily it's almost alarming if it wasn't exactly what you wanted. His hand tight on the back of your neck, he raises you up and he lays himself down. He lets your neck go before sitting up and ripping the rest of your nightgown off with two hands before laying back. He pushes his pants down slightly, "Take 'em off." his tone as bossy as ever. You strip them from his legs, moving back up between then and sit obediently to await instruction. "Don't fuckin' stare at it like you don't know what the fuck to do." he barks at you. 

And as he knew it would, it tells you all the instruction you need to know as you engulf him in your mouth greedily. You can't help yourself really, the hard feel of him, thinking about how good he fucked you with this cock that was perfectly proportioned for you, it makes you moan as you take him in. And he was so throbbingly hard, moving into the back of your throat as you loosened up to take him in all the way, hands moving to hold him at the base and cup his balls. 

"Fuck you are good at that, kitten." he hisses, one hand moving your hair to one side so he can truly appreciate the show you're putting on for him. Hands busy stroking and tugging, the fearless way you got messy with it, spitting on him and jerking him as you took a few moments to breathe before lapping him up and going down again. But tonight that wouldn't be enough. He moves his hand to the back of your head, holding you down on him, feeling you tense and whimper around him, keeping himself totally inside you until he felt the resistance, then yanking you off by your hair, leaving you gasping, strings of spit still connecting your lips to the head of his cock. "Dirty girl like you isn't going to leave the boys out is she?" the sinful smile that spread across your face made those bits he spoke of tense and his cock twitch. He pushes your head down further as you lick and gently grope and hum contentedly into his balls, sucking one in your mouth, then both, then the other. He's a groaning, grunting mess by your hand, making him just as messy there as you did on his cock, you do a broad stroke of your tongue from his thighs, to under his balls and to the base of his cock again and he moans. He regrips your hair, pulling closer to the scalp and giving you less control as he palms your throat again, he pushes himself back into your mouth, totally controlling your movements, and pushing himself all the way in with the rising of his hips off the bed. "You fuckin' take it you filthy girl." he growls as he fucks your face. "Open up and stick that fuckin' tongue out." he barks at you. You obey and he throws his head back, feeling himself move in your throat with his grip on your throat. "You take this cock like a fuckin' professional. Fuck me." he says with genuine being impressed. 

He can barely make out a "Yes sir." with him in your mouth and he lets out a loud laugh at your expense.

"Fuck her face and she'll thank you for it." he yanks you off of him again.   
"Get up and get on this cock you wicked little thing." 

You wipe your face and move as quickly as he'll let you, straddling him and sinking down on him, your hands placed on his stomach, letting your head fall back for a moment to bask in the feeling. "You love sitting on this cock don't you, pet?" he coos, hands running from your neck to your chest, pinching at your nipples, causing you to tense around him and he grunts.

"Yes sir." you moan out, moving your head back down to look at him. "I fucking love it." you whisper, your hands moving to his chest, holding yourself up as you start to bounce on him. His eyes are dark and focused on you, watching your tits knock together as you rode him, feeling your ass bouncing against him, he keeps his hands on your chest, now rolling your nipples between his fingers. He sees all the signs already, your breath picking up, the way your mouth panted open, your brows knit in concentration, and you felt and looked so good it was hard for him to want to make you stop.

"You aren't allowed to come yet, Gen. Don't you even fuckin' think about coming on my cock yet." he brings his hands down on your ass again. 

Your eyes open and you look down at him, slowing your pace and whining, you try to slow your breathing, rising and falling more slowly.

"That's a good girl. You can listen." he praises, watching the torment fall across your face. 

"Yes sir."

"Do you think you deserve to come?"

"That's your decision to make sir." 

A wicked grin on his face, he holds his hands to your hips. "Then you'll work for it." he moves your hips back and forth, making your hips rock against him instead of bouncing. You move languidly against him, feeling your clit rubbing against him as the back and forth picks up speed. "That's it, pet, grind on it." he growls, moving your hips back and forth faster. You start those helpless little mewls again, growing into moans the closer you got. He lets go of you, putting his hands behind his head, an absolutely delicious sight to behold. His shirt still on, falling open across that broad, masculine expanse of his chest as your hands clung to him. "That's it now luv..." he groans, taking in the sight. "Fuckin' work for it babe, yeah?" he grunts, lip snarling slightly, watching you fall apart quickly and intensely. The build up over the length of the session now catching up with you as you grow louder. 

"Oh my fucking god." you feel it start in your spine, an icy tingle through your whole body, you raise a hand to your chest, cupping a breast, the other moving to pull your fingers through your hair, landing with a slap against your neck, trailing down as the feeling grew. The denial made everything heightened, you were in pain with how engorged you were, how on edge you'd been. You continue to grind against him, a strong wave of pleasure hits you. "Fuck." you whisper, hands falling back to his chest. "Holy shit." you moan out, the feeling still building, taking you off guard with its intensity. 

"I know. Alfie knows how to make you feel good doesn't he?" he says with a smug smirk on his face, watching you start to shake, the surprise coming across your face at how he'd built you up this way. 

"Fuck yes you do." your eyes meet for a moment before they roll back again, another cry from deep in your chest, a deep and needful one. 

"Tell me how good it feels." he demands. 

"So fucking good. So...ugh...too good. It hurts it so good." you blurt out, your chest heaving. "How do you do this to me. Make me feel like this. Like your cock was made for me, I fucking swear." you whine, hips starting to stutter. 

"I gave you exactly what you needed didn't I my darling?" he couldn't hide the smugness in his voice and why would he with you almost literally singing his praises. 

"Yes Alfie, fuck." you gasp and he feels your stomach start to quiver. "You always do, darling. Always." you moan out helplessly as he watches it take over your body, part by part. You chant "Oh, fuck." until it reaches your throat and takes away your ability to speak. Your hands shake against his chest, your whole torso convulses hard, as you try to keep your hips moving, trying to prolong this heavenly feeling. It was so much more intense than what you were used to, you felt it in every cell of your body. As the most intense part passes, you unwillingly crumple against him.   
He grabs your arms, moving your face to his shoulder as he holds your arms, you grasp at his forearm, still moaning, and crying out when he positioned his hips to pound up into you.

You moved to his will completely, feeling the pleasure building again immediately, you bite down on the cap of his shoulder, grunting against him. Your whole body bounced to his rhythm, at his mercy. "Fuck me." you say in desperation, and he knows how you mean it.

"Fuck you?" he growls, a hand slapping down onto your ass again, holding you down for the pounding he was putting you through. Your head bobs against his arm. "I'll fuck you all right Gen, I'll fill every hole up with me." his tone turns dark, moving his hand up and shoving his fingers into your mouth, holding you by your chin with his palm as it makes you let out every obscene noise he draws from you. You're panting in high pitched sounds, as you feel his finger circling the other hole he spoke of. You were sopping wet from his teasing and the orgasm, as he draws it up and around, probing at the tight hole. You let out another deep moan at the feeling. You didn't recall the last time you'd been filled totally. But you'd never come across a one-man gang bang like Alfie Solomons before. He slips a finger into your ass and your head goes limp in his hand. "No one's ever givin' you such a proper seein' to like me before have they?" he hisses, you feel the masculine energy radiating off him and your tongue would be rolling out of your mouth is his fingers didn't have hold of it. 

"No sir." you mumble out and he growls loudly, pounding even harder. "Oh, fuck!" you squeak out, knowing you're going to come again. 

"Every hole filled you naughty girl. My fuckin' filthy little Genny, eh?" 

"Yes." you managed as you shout out, a wordless and needful scream builds and he fucks it right out of you. You come again, and with him being so rough, every place he could stimulate being stimulated, you keep screaming out for him as the waves hit you over and over. He grabs your chin and pulls your lips close to his.

"I'm making this little cunny fuckin' mine you understand me? he snarls. 

"Yes, Alfie, yours, yes." your eyes rolled back in your head, feeling euphoric in a way you hadn't experienced with a man. You expect him to let up, but he doesn't, his finger fucks you along with his cock, still giving you the proper fuck you longed for. "Oh my fucking god." you moan out with no grace to it as tears form in your eyes at the quickly growing orgasm within you.

"You're gonna come again, Gen. You're gonna come again because I want you to. And you'll give me what I want won't you?" his whispers, his lips moving against yours but you can't even manage to kiss him. 

"Yes." you cry out, more tears squeezed out of your eyes from the sheer force of pleasure washing over you.

"So. Fuckin'. Tight." he shouts, feeling you tense around his finger, the power behind your muscles taking him off guard. He moves both hands to your hips, you're still convulsing, your body limp but writhing against his as he finishes inside you but you barely notice. You felt absolutely drunk off of him. 

He surprises you by rolling you over onto your side, him moving with you. You slowly blink open your eyes as you regain the ability to do such a thing. His hand moves your hair from your face, you can feel your chests against each other, panting in tandem, your eyes finding him just as covered in sweat as you were. Your legs straddle his thigh, his hand so much more gentle now as his fingertips move along the curve of your body, eyes looking to make sure you were okay.

"I didn't hurt you did I?" you hear the softness again and it warms your chest, you let out a content hum as you gulp and wet your lips. 

"No..no..." you rasp out, his hand back to your face, thumb ghosting over your lip. "Just enough." you manage a small smile. 

"You're fuckin' brilliant you know that?" he says with a husky laugh. 

"You were." you whisper out, lashes fluttering as he takes in the bliss across your face and he's so charmed to have been the cause of such a lovely sight. "Fuck I needed that so badly, Alfie." you admit, moving your hand to his chest. "You have no idea." you gruff out. 

"I have a better idea than you might think." he lets out a heavy sigh, kissing your forehead and you let out another happy hum in response. 

"I don't think I have it in me to move." you give a small laugh, running your hand through your hair, letting it fall over your head to rest. You pause to look over him as he yawns, a hand resting on your hip. "Not that I want to." you admit out loud, your eyes on his hand as his thumb lazily strokes your skin. You move your legs with his help, untangling your limbs. As you do so, he rises slightly to pull his sweat-soaked shirt off. 

He holds his arm up, expecting you to scoot away but you don't. Instead you speak very softly, "Would you mind lying on your back?" 

"'Course not, luv." he says with a knitted brow, slightly confused by the request. You use your toes to pull the covers up and move it over both of you as he grins at your childish approach to the chore. You yawn again, and snuggle up to his side, putting his arm around you. You rest your head on his chest, a hand by your face as you usually slept now nestled in his chest hair. "You...you sleepin' like 'is?" he asks quietly against his better judgment as he's afraid if he points it out you may stop. 

"You don't mind do you?" you lift your head up to face him with tired eyes. 

"No, no, not...at all." he says with a warm tone, the arm behind your back now wrapping around to pull you close, thumb once again continuing its lazy stroking. 

You give the most curious little smile, your eyes half-lidded, your face still blissful as you move your chin up to kiss him gently at first. Then his hand moves to cup your cheek, hands now incredibly soft and gentle, caressing your face, resting in your hair as you breathe into each other for a few moments, you hadn't had the chance to kiss him during all the roughhousing. He stops, feeling the tension in the muscles in his back from pulling his head at the slightly awkward angle to kiss you. 

"Thank you, Alfie." you whisper before returning your cheek to his now slowly rising and falling chest. "Goodnight, love." you murmur, lips against his skin, a tiny peck, the sweetest gesture that might've well have been a punch with how it felt. 

He takes the hand that rests on his chest, picking it up to kiss it before placing it back and resting his face in your hair. "It is, luv, it is." he whispers. 

His fingers comb through your now curling hair, drying with the sweat of exertion you'd gone through. You can feel his breath in your hair, hear his heartbeat in his chest, and for the first time since the news of your sister, you felt at peace. You nuzzle into the hair on his chest, your fingers squeezing his as they intertwine weakly. His thumb moves again against the back of your hand, you feel so small and it doesn't bother you in the slightest, it feels right to be in his arms. You let out another yawn, signaling to your body it was time to power down. It was the easiest you'd ever fallen asleep in ages and for the first time in a man's arms in such a way. In them you found sanctuary, you felt safe, you felt calm and complete in a way you never had before.


	45. Take Me To Church

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song for the chapter is Take Me To Church by Hozier.

You'd kept the promise to yourself of having nothing but wine until the cloud of grief started to depart from above your head. Alfie had gone back to work, giving you plenty of time to think. And you certainly needed it. You'd not made yourself work, you let things autopilot for a bit, just trying to control yourself and your thoughts and you were honestly feeling better. 

You'd spent the afternoon in your secret room that lay behind your concealed room full of jewels. You'd started with gawking at your Faberge eggs, a glass of wine in your hand as you let the music from your record player move your hips about the highly decorated room. 

The conversation with your Uncle, the letter from your father and mother, the intimate night you'd spent side by side with Alfie...all had your heart feeling a lot of things. You chew your lip and stare at the almost unnoticeable recess in the wall, wondering if you could stand to go into the room or if you'd lose your progress if you let yourself into your chamber full of memories. Perhaps it's the wine, perhaps your heart just desperately needed something concrete to latch onto, but you unlock and slide the door out of the way, leaving it just cracked as you flip on the chandelier that hung from the domed ceiling in the circular room. 

You pace it in circles, sipping your wine, looking at the trunks, the stacks of hat boxes and the piles of paintings as you make your way to the large painting of Lilith that graced a wall made especially for it to rest on. You let out a heavy sigh, still feeling so proud every time you looked at it. A nude woman, Lilith with firey, long hair in lush scenery, snakes coiling around her body. You'd fallen in love with it the moment you'd seen it. 

It was the first painting you'd ever stolen. Seeing as you stole it from a museum, a task that in hindsight wasn't the brightest idea, but you were so proud of your younger self for doing it and the memories brought a much-needed smile to your face. Looking at it, thinking of its endless layers of symbolism and meaning for you personally made your chest hurt. You sat beneath it, popping open a trunk that your mother had sent you after you'd bought your apartment in Paris. She missed you and you missed her, and seeing as you were a woman on the rise and on her own, she'd sent you the family heirlooms she'd managed to keep hidden from your father, hoping that you would somehow find a use for them one day. You hadn't had much hope that they'd ever see the light of day again, but a part of you now, deep deep down somewhere thought that maybe... there might be the possibility now that they could. 

You run your fingers over the beautiful pieces made of silver and gold, bejeweled and still shining after you wipe away the dust. You set them to the side, looking to the rest of the contents of the trunk. The doll Elizabeth had sent you years ago, you give it a hug, setting it in your lap. It's long dark hair and shiny dark eyes did resemble you and you'd never found it as endearing as you did now. 

What you'd found as passive aggressive when you'd first seen it, now meant the world to you, your mother wedding veil. At least father had let her still use it. You believe it was her mothers as it was fine and delicate but beautiful in its simple beading and fabric, you have the urge to place it on your head but you hold back. No need to open Pandora's box just yet. 

A very worn and now holey scarf of your uncles that he'd given you was kept in here now, you'd used it to almost pieces, having mended it many times over. It used to smell like him, and that's why you loved it, it always made you feel safe and was a reminder that there was a man out there that loved you. It was as precious to you as the heirlooms, having been on so many of your first jobs with you. You'd even risked being caught to go back and retrieve it more than once. 

The last thing at the bottom, a large ring, costume jewelry, but you'd worn it until it broke as a child. Your uncle had told you he'd taken it from a place in the holy land, and you knew that to be a lie now, but at the time you wore it so proudly. You felt like the most special little girl in the world. Perhaps you should blame him for your fascination with jewels, the memories bring tears to your eyes but for the first time in weeks, they were happy tears. 

You'd spent a lot of time thinking about the truth today. How objective it could be, how it could be hidden and manipulated. You sat next to that trunk and thought through more glasses of wine, a few more tears, a few more laughs as you thumbed through old journals and memories of your family and felt connected through the pieces they'd passed down over the years.

You reach one of the last entries, another fight with your father. Your raging hormones had led you to scream the truth at him, about how you'd known for years and you'd tell your brothers and sisters to and then the world. The next entry has droplets of tears and blood on the page, a reminder of how he'd tried to beat that free spirit out of you. That girl that longed to be free from his restraints that weren't warranted and served no one but himself. You feel that same anger, even years past now and you wonder if your younger self would be disappointed with you. 

You look into the mirror across the room that sat propped against a wall. An antique piece you'd brought from your apartment in Paris, now the reflective surface veined and muddled by time. You'd love it so much you hadn't wanted to chance it getting broken in the fragile state of its glass and frame and left it in here. You see how your reflection has changed from the time it hung on the wall of your tiny apartment that you fought so hard for. So much had changed, and yet so very little had all the same. Your face now older, but you still felt like that same little girl didn't you? Still walking under an invisible shadow, flinching at the mentions of your father, torn between telling the truth and staying safe. 

But now you were a woman. You'd made a life for yourself, and you dare even entertain the thought that you might've found someone to share your life with. And you knew if you really were going to be with Alfie that couldn't live a lie anymore. You knew you owed it to yourself, and at this point, you certainly owed it to him. You knew your father deserved anything bad coming to him, and now with his last action of cutting you off from everyone, he'd given you a sort of freedom, hadn't he? He had nothing to threaten you with anymore. He'd taken your family away, he couldn't take your money or your belongings, they were all yours, and if he came for you for your illegal activities, you knew your Uncle wouldn't stand for it, neither would Alfie you liked to think. Even Palmer had said he would choose your relationship over the relationship he had with your father. Somewhere in your youthful rebellion that turned into a career, you'd secured a spot for yourself in the shadows of the high society that your father liked to creep about in. But now, you were the one with something to offer...not him. 

You delicately place the items back in the trunk and pick up your now empty glass of wine. You never thought the day would come, but it had hadn't it? You were elated and you were terrified. 

You notice how buzzed you are when you try to walk out of the room, but you don't think that this is a bad decision despite that fact. So you follow through.

"Aggie!" you shout from your doorway, and as always, give or take a few minutes she appears. 

"Yes, my darling, what is it?"

"Would you send Alfie to my room please?"

"Of course dear, any reason?"

"I don't mean my bedroom." her eyebrows raise.

"Oh, you mean your...YOUR room." she almost stutters. 

"Yes..." you pause she can see your face is serious. "I have something I need to tell him."

Her eyes go as wide as saucers.

"At breakfast in the morning, I want all the staff; house, land, and company together. I'll have an announcement to make."

Her hand reaches up to grab the pendant on her necklace. "What about?"

"It's not about marriage if you're leaping that far." you shake your head but she still seems nervous. "It's more important than that." you whisper.

"Genevieve you're going to give me a heart attack just tell me."

"I'm going to tell him the truth." your face looks oddly indifferent.

"The truth?"

"Yes." she keeps her eyes, blinking on you. "About my family."

She stumbles back slightly. "You...are you..sure? That's...Genevieve that's..."

"I know." you nod. "I'm tired of hiding. Tired of lying and pretending. It's time."

She moves and holds your face and kisses your cheeks. "My dear I have never been more proud to know you."

"I think Alfie's a good place to start...don't you?" you ask genuinely. 

"I think it's the best place to start my child." she kisses your forehead and scurries away.   
\---  
You're pushing heavy canvases back and forth, looking over all the powerful women the paintings were subjects of. Ones you'd collected and never hung on your walls proudly where all could see. That would change soon. 

"Is something the matter with Agatha she's a bit more jittery than usual." you hear Alfis say from the other room. "Fuckin' what?" the confusion at the newly existing hole in the wall clear in his voice. "What the fuck is this?" he asks, eyes wide as you turn to greet him as he walks into your personal sanctuary. 

"My secret room." you answer softly, moving your hands out as if to present it. 

"This been here the whole time?" his brows furrowed as he takes in its contents.

"Yeah. It's where I keep my most personal things."

He stays quiet for a moment, eyes finally landing on the large Lilith painting on the wall behind you. 

"With what happened with my father when Elizabeth died..." your lips purse in thought of how to do this. "It crushed me at first, burned me to the ground as you witnessed." he moves towards you now, a kind expression worn for you as you talk about your pain. "But I see now it's an opportunity that I couldn't have afforded before. I have to rise from the ashes now." 

"Like a phoenix, yeah." he nods, looking at you curiously.

"I wanted to share some pieces of myself with you." your eyes are so honest it cuts him deep when you meet his eyes. He could feel something different in the air around you. "Things I've not shared with anyone really. Some I've kept secret just for personal reasons, some I've been forced to keep."

"Forced?" he says, lips frowning at the thought. 

"Yes." you nod. "Like this painting..." you say, turning to point to the Lilith portrait again. "This is the first painting I ever stole." he sees the smile on your face and his nerves eased. 

"Really? You kept it?" he smiles back at you, standing next to you.

"I fell in love with it the moment I saw it and the museum wouldn't sell it to me so I stole it." you grin. 

"I see not much has changed." he chuckles, knocking you with his elbow.

"If I fall in love with something and I can't have it through conventional means...I will find a way." your eyes meet his for a moment and his jaw tenses, following your odd smile as you turn and walk to the other side of the room. "Take a look around, Alfie. Ask whatever questions come into your head. You might as well have been giving a key to my mind and heart the moment you stepped in here. This room holds everything precious to me."

"And the eggs are in the other room?"

"Things far more intimate and meaningful are in here."

He's taken back by the answer. He thought you were absolutely bonkers over those eggs. He sees you're actively revealing yourself to him, and he's nervous as to why. He has many theories but he works within the parameters you've set for him. 

He looks through the big canvases all in a pile against the wall. "I know you're fond of Lilith but it seems you're also fond of Judith as well?"

"I love the stories as a child. My uncle would read them to me. Told me I could grow up to be just as powerful if I wanted."

"This uncle...he on your mother's side of the family?"

"Yes. George didn't have any family left. Not that I would've spent any time with them willingly anyway. My mother's family was always where my heart was. Lovely people." you say with a warm smile. 

"I'm guessin' I'm just lucky you never tried to cut my head off with a sword." he muses.

"I'd never." you let out a chuckle, opening a hat box full of papers and sifting through them. Drawings, letters, writings all mixed together from different eras of your life. 

You let him peruse, he touches everything he passes, landing on your mother's veil. "This your mum's?" he asks, holding it as delicately as you had and it makes your stomach form knots. 

"Yeah. It was her wedding veil."

"Lovely, that," he says softly. "That the dress?" he asks, a pointed finger a pile of dresses, a white on top of the pile where the veil sat.

"No. She gave Sara her wedding dress since she was the first to marry."

"But you got the veil?"

"Sara didn't want it." you shake your head. 

"Your sister Elizabeth...she was married, she not want it either?" he asks, trying to put the pieces of a puzzle together that he couldn't see. 

"No." you shake your head again. 

"May I ask why not?"

"The veil was her mother's, and it meant a lot to her. I was the only child close to her side of the family, she thought it fitting I have it."

"Even though you're...and forgive me if I'm speaking out of turn but...even if you didn't want to be married?" he's grasping at something, you can see it in his eyes. 

"It's not that I..." you shrug and sigh. His face falls as he sees you shake the thought out of your head. "She sent it a long time ago. Before Elizabeth was engaged." Only one confession per day, Genevieve, don't get sidetracked. You didn't want to explain that you'd just never thought you'd find anyone worth marrying. Not that you were against it.

He makes his way over to the trunk and you feel nauseous. "And this?"

"Things my mother sent for me to keep after I bought my first place in Paris. Pieces handed down in the family and the like." you say as casually as you can manage. You set the papers in your hands down to rest on the top of a box to hide how your hands were shaking. 

"May I open it?"

"Yes, please." you say quietly with a supportive nod. 

"Oh, how adorable. She looks just like you." he says in an amused tone, wiggling the doll in your direction and you smile. 

"Elizabeth thought so as well. She put it in the trunk for me to have when mother sent it." the smile stays on your face for a moment.

He moves the large scarf, something that would hold no obvious importance to him, you see notebooks stacked neatly as he gets to what's in the bottom of the trunk.

"Fuckin' hell," he says in awe, holding up the Kiddush cup your mother had sent. "This is fuckin' breath-takin' luv!" he says, holding the silver and jeweled goblet in his hands, his eyes wide. "My family woulda killed to have somefin' this nice." he almost whispers. "Should've brought this out for Shabbat! It's beautiful!" he says enthusiastically. He sits it down delicately. You see his head tilt, and you can hear your heartbeat in your ears. "These...these are some of the most beautiful pieces I've seen in years, Genevieve." the true astonishment in his face is both heartwarming and terrifying. You're waiting for him to finish that puzzle he'd been working on in his head. 

You move to kneel next to him, not very far away. You felt you should be close for this part. 

He pulls out the brilliant Seder plate, hand painted in Hebrew and so intricately decorated just the same. His brow furrows, you see his chin push back as you wait. 

"This one has always been my favorite." you say quietly, picking up the shining gold and bejeweled Menorah with two hands, setting it in your lap. The gold shone bright and the intricately carved details decorate the base, hand painted sections in different colors all over, everything about it stunning. 

"That looks like something straight from Jerusalem." he says with envy.

"That's where my uncle said it was from." you nod, still not meeting his eyes. 

You see him blink fast, his eyes darting from the three pieces. "You said...your mother sent you these?"

"Yes." is all you can manage. 

"These were...your mothers?"

"Her family's yes." you nod, the tightness in your chest making tears want to form in your eyes. 

"Your mother's..." his head jerks suddenly tilting to the side. "Jewish?" with the spoken word his eyes meet yours. 

"Yes." you whisper, he sees your breath picking up, you gulp nervously.

"That means you are..."

"Jewish." your mouth hangs open slightly, your eyes full of fear for what he'll say or do next. 

He sets the plate on the floor, afraid he'll drop it. "You're Jewish?" his face is unreadable except for the shock, and perhaps that's all that was there.

"Yeah." you squeak out, setting the Menorah back into the trunk, then the plate and scooting closer to him. "My father...when he married my mum he made her convert. At least publically. He made her hide it, and hid it from her children."

"He...what?" you can feel the anger raising from deep in his chest. 

"He only married her because he was in debt and needed her family's support and he only got that through blackmail on my grandfather. He told her after she'd agreed to marry him as a business truce that he wouldn't allow her to speak of her heritage."

"He fucking what?" the rage was clear now as he met your eyes. 

"It was a sham marriage on all accounts. I only found out as a child because I was hiding and overheard their arguing about it. Otherwise, I don't know that I would've ever found out." 

He reaches out and takes your hand. "You've been hiding this your whole life?"

"I had to. He threatened me if I didn't. I tried to confront him but he..." you stop yourself.

"He what?" his deep and threatening tone was back.

"I stood up to him, I did I-" he sees the desperation the memory holds in your eyes.

"What'd he do Genevieve?"

"Well, he... he struck me-" Alfie let's out a growl. "He told me he wouldn't let me see my mother's family ever again, lest they corrupt me. Said he'd send me to a Catholic boarding school for girls and I'd never see any of my family again." you lower your eyes, the shame burning your cheeks.

He lifts your chin to look at him. "You did nothing wrong." he says and the hot sting of tears happens so fast. 

"I know that now." you rasp out.

He takes you by surprise, the pain in his chest for someone having oppressed your heritage burns through him as he takes you in his arms. "I'm so sorry you had to deal with that monster," he whispers. You nod and let yourself rest against him. "You were so hesitant about people knowing we were working together...or even sleeping together..." he shakes his head. Things were falling into place. "You were afraid he'd come after you." he moves you away, fingers on your chin. 

"We aren't meant to have anything to do with other Jews." you sniffle.   
"Could cause too many questions." you whisper. "That's always been the agreement."

"That's what he meant in the letter." he feels a flash of anger, then a flash of deep, deep guilt. You'd risked working with him, being with him despite the possible consequences. Every time you'd gone out in public with him you'd been putting yourself in danger. He feels sick to his stomach. Was he who was really responsible for your father cutting you off from your family for good? He thinks he might be ill at the thought he had anything to do with that pain. "Fuck is this...I did this." he says, his hand dropping from your face. "I'm the reason he sent that letter, Gen....I-"

"It was all my decision. You didn't know. How could you?" your face is even more distraught as his falls, eyes looking absolutely gutted. "YOU did nothing wrong, Alfie. Don't let him make you think that too. This is all on him. We're just living our lives and he's the one that's trying to play God with people." Saying it to someone else felt so cathartic. It made it real, like you were also saying it to yourself. "I..." you feel the first tears start to fall. "I wanted to tell you so badly." and the confession makes your face hurt as you tense it to keep yourself together. 

"Oh come now, Genny." he coos, holding you again. "I understand why you couldn't." 

"I just can't hide anymore. I can't lie to you anymore." your voice is so weak it hurts his ears. The thought that you were thinking of him amidst something as epic as this for you emotionally started to mix with the guilt and make him start to hate himself. "It's such a big part of who you are and it is for me too but I couldn't express that to you before now and it's..." you let out a small hiccup noise you were so upset.

"Shhh..." he says, hands stroking your back and hair. "Don't upset yourself, luv. I'm not mad at you." you had needed to hear that. You'd been so afraid he'd hate you for lying to him. His identity was so fused with the fact that he was Jewish that you were afraid he'd shun you for denying it.

He was actually extremely proud of you. Standing up to a lifetime of abuse to an absolute horror of a human. A father was supposed to love and cherish a daughter, not do what he did to you. He wasn't mad, but as he held you, as the silence fell and his mind calmed, the many pieces fitting together in his mind, his stomach churned for a new reason.

Oh, fuck you were Jewish. He thought to himself. This created a new problem for him, a rift creating, heartbreaking problem. Being who he was, a man who held Jewish women in such high regard and a man he didn't think was worthy of a Jewish woman...where did that leave the two of you? He'd promised himself long ago that he wouldn't go near Jewish women but here he was, the only woman he'd ever felt this close to, and literally, your hearts pressed together this very second. The things he'd done to you, and dear God the things he'd said. His face winces at the thought. He was nothing but a fucking sodomite holding an angel in his arms he was certain. 

The realization hits him like a grenade landed too close to him during the war, his vision quaking, his ears ringing. That thought that had sat in the back of his mind since you'd walked into his office that day that you were too good to be true, was, in fact, coming to fruition. He wasn't worthy of you. He never had been. He never would be. He couldn't be with you.


	46. Fortuna

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song for the chapter is Fortuna by Funke and the Two Tone Baby.

The house had started to change. Just small things, mainly the what adorned the walls he'd noticed. Beautiful depictions of powerful women from the Torah, Ruth in the hallway, Judith in your office, Lilith's appearing in your study to join the ones that he had noticed in your bedroom. 

The morning after you'd told him your secret, you'd made the same announcement to the rest of the staff. Some were indifferent, mostly the ones that worked on your crops and bees for Abeille. But the house staff that he was now noticing was composed of almost entirely quiet younger women seemed thrilled with the news. 

Agatha cried, but that made sense to him. If she'd been with you since childhood she knew all your family's dirty little secrets and he was betting this was a day she never thought would come. Claire was quiet, with her face as indifferent as usual. She seemed a bit more at ease, perhaps it was pride for your courage to finally defy your father. 

He hadn't noticed how many of your staff were Jewish before this, the oldest ones already knew, he could tell by the subtle smiles. Some had come with you from your family's home would've surely seen and heard all the terrible things you'd gone through over the years. But the majority of your house staff, the young women were moved to tears by your admission and story and embraced you with soft words of how happy they were that you were more like them than they had thought. How had he not picked up on this before? It seemed you'd been harboring Jewish women, giving them a place to live, a job and safety, which he's seeing now as you trying to help others where you yourself hadn't been helped at that time in your life. You kept pulling back layers of yourself, and he kept being surprised each time, finding a more complicated woman each time. But it also revealed a stronger, more resilient and in this instance, a much kinder woman than he'd known previously. And that nagging thought that you were too good for him was more prominent in his mind than ever. 

He'd not been his best at work today. He'd been an awful man to deal with, he knew that, entirely short-tempered and unfocused. He didn't want to go home on a Friday night for the first time since moving in. He knew what Friday nights usually entailed, and he knew what you would most likely be expecting of him, and his guilt sat heavy and sickening in his gut. He had no one to blame but himself for this situation and no one but himself could get him out of it. 

This connection that had grown between the two of you from the start, now on the verge of evolving into something substantial that couldn't be ignored was something that he'd not thought possible for himself. Much like you, it seemed, the thought of being with someone, dare he say falling for someone in a life like his was something he'd written off years and years ago. But isn't that what his mother had told him? That if you weren't looking... that if you worked on bettering yourself the right person would find their way to you. He didn't know about being better than he had been but he most certainly hadn't been looking for whatever you two had found in each other when this began. 

What would his mother say? He wondered as his eyes stared at nothing in particular, fingers moving mindlessly through his beard as he rested his elbows on his desk in his dusty office. She'd say he was being ungrateful. That God had bestowed a gift upon him and he should not shun it. He wasn't sure about all that, but he'd certainly dreamed of something like this when he'd been in the war. Drifting off in the trenches, caked in blood and shit and dirt and dreaming in those fleeting moment of peace about someone to fight for, to come home to. So many other men had already found that. But they hadn't made it. He had. And before the war penetrated his soul, making him calloused and hard in a way previously unknown to him, he'd been jealous of what those men had. Instead of a woman to make the fight stay alive in him, he'd fought to stay alive for himself. He hadn't wanted to become another body thrown in a ditch and forgotten like all the boys he had helped bury. All the boys on the other side he'd killed that had been left in unmarked graves. He'd gotten out for himself, and now on the other side of hell, he'd not really expected much out of life for himself. Certainly hadn't expected to find someone like you. 

He thinks his mother would've just adored you. All she'd wanted was for him to marry a nice Jewish girl. She would've cried the day he came to tell her he'd found someone, he'd have shown her a picture and she would've clutched her chest and tears would've appeared in her eyes. She'd speak on how lovely you were, on how beautiful your children would be. Then he would tell her of how smart you were and she'd have squeezed his arm in relief. He'd have told her how successful you were and the tears that sat in her eyes would've fallen. A worthy woman for her precocious baby boy if there ever was one. 

But she wasn't here. She didn't get to see you, or hear about you, or offer advice. She'd lived to see his sisters and brothers married and have children, but she'd also lived to see her sons die in the war, her sons-in-law as well, and there he stood alone in the end. No hope to offer her in her final days that he'd be carrying on after she left him. He'd never felt as guilty about that as he did now. 

The men had left the bakery hours ago, Ollie was falling asleep in the chair outside his office and he knew he wasn't going to be able to escape his thoughts no matter where he went. He was tired, in every sense of the word. He lightly kicks the chair Ollie sits in and tells him to call his car and to go home. He'd been using your home as a means of escape, diving back into the bubble that suspended reality where you could both forget most of the awful things of your day to day lives and lose your worries in each other. But now it had become the exact opposite, feeling him with dread and self-hatred. He knew it couldn't have lasted forever, he fucking knew that but he was finding facing the harshness of reality much more difficult than he had thought he would.

He was hoping it was late enough that you would be asleep. Assuming he had been caught up in something and would be too tired to be worth bothering when he got home anyway. Claire is awake, sitting in front of a fireplace reading, an indifferent nod to him as he made his way to his room. He thinks he's done it, one day down and weeks, possibly months left to go before his house was finished and he wouldn't have to try to avoid sleeping with you. 

You see the car lights come up the drive, you set your sketch down, thinking he might make an appearance since it was Friday and he'd been gone all day. But he never came. You worry he'd had a bad day and you wanted to make sure he was alright, to offer help or comfort where it was needed. So you put a thick cardigan on, the knit just so happens to match your socks you wore to protect yourself from the cold of autumn that had a firm grip on the land as soon as the sun fell behind the rolling faded green horizon. 

"Alfie, love?" you whisper, padding into his room, hands holding the jumper together. 

"MMmmph?" you hear him grunt. 

You crawl into the bed, sliding under the covers, slipping off your outer layer and laying down beside him. "You've been gone all night, I wanted to check on you." you speak softly, your voice kind and it hurts him to hear it. "Are you alright?" you whisper, a hand brushing back his hair. 

"I'm fine, yeah? Don't worry 'bout me, luv." he says brow knitting, rubbing his forearm over his face.

You continue to slide closer, resting your chin on his chest, fingers stroking at his chest hair. "Someone has to." you say playfully. "Bad day darling?" 

"Yeah." he groans. You feel his chest deflate fully with the words. 

"Would you like any...assistance in relieving some of that stress?" you say suggestively, hand moving slowly down his stomach.

He wanted to say yes, have you drain the evil out of him with your amazing mouth but he couldn't. "No, luv..." he moves his hand to stop yours, holding it at the wrist. "I don't got it in me tonight."

"You don't have to do anything, you know this." you say almost defensively. "I don't like seeing you stressed." the soft lilt of your voice makes his chest hurt. He didn't deserve a bit of this affection from you. He was a fucking sodomite, a man who'd witness and acted out on such brutality that a good woman, a good Jewish woman like you shouldn't even be touching him as he could feel himself soiling your good nature just by being around you. 

"I..." he lets out a frustrated sound that makes you pout, reaching up to rest your hand on his chest. "I've got a lot on my mind, sweetheart." he eventually drags out, coming out in a breathy exhale.

"Do you want to talk about it?" you rest your cheek on his chest.

He lets out a noisy huff of breath. Why were you so persistently caring towards him? "No." he plainly states and you feel almost as if he's mad at you. "Don't want to bother you with it." he adds eventually as he could feel your body so totally still on his. 

"Do you..." you look up at him and blink rapidly. "Do you want me to leave?" you almost squeak out and it breaks his heart. Fuck no he didn't want you to leave. He wanted you right here in his arms until you realized your misplaced affections as you should. He wanted you so very badly and that was his problem.

"No, luv, course not." he whispers and you feel his arm finally move around to your back. His warmth comforts you. He feels your contented hum rumble through your chest and into his. 

"Good." you purr, propping up on one elbow, your lovely delicate hands now caress his harsh face. His spots were making an appearance again. "I'll have to give you another rub down soon. You're so bothered you're picking and breaking out again." you say with no judgment. Why did you dote on him so? Why couldn't you see him for the monster he was? His skin trying to warn you not to touch him, not to get close, that maybe something was wrong with him that you should want to keep away from him. But no, instead you never saw the spots as something that marked him as unattractive or undesirable, you'd only seen them as a sign of distress that you had wanted to quiet immediately. He didn't deserve this sort of care from someone like you. 

"Shush Genny, don't worry 'bout me spots." he grumbles, nose and whiskers twitching as your soft hands touched his rugged jaw. He thought it proper he had the spots as he felt like a monster and thought the outside should match the inside. 

Instead of fussing you kiss his cheek, his jaw tenses at your gentleness. Your lack of anger at his difficult nature, his words that came out biting harsher than the situation warranted. Your fingers scratch and stroke his beard, you nuzzle into his neck, a single kiss planted on his bare skin before you let out a heavy sigh. "It's getting so cold out darling," you whisper. "Do you mind if I stay with you tonight? You're so warm." you mewl as you rub up against him.

"Take all the warmth ya need." his tone is tired, his arm finally resting against you fully, making sure the covers came up over you. 

Every stroke of his hair, every small kiss or sweet word murmured against him feels like a knife. Each more painful than the last. With every sigh of comfort you let out, the more he hated himself. This was a rule he'd set for himself. Long before you'd come along, but you'd broken the system hadn't you? He hadn't known you were Jewish, had he, you would still be on a Miss and Mister name basis and he'd just have to admire you from afar. 

The little kisses, the gentle petting of your petite fingertips across his skin as you start to doze off make him realize he'd never been good enough for you, Jewish or not. He'd led you on. He knew you felt things beyond friendship for him now and with his encouragement, you'd started to fall for him and he wasn't going to be there to catch you. He was going to pull back and leave you empty and you would grow to resent him. He'd turn you down one too many times and you'd ask what was wrong and he'd have no answer he wanted to give. He didn't want to lie to you, which made it difficult to navigate this situation in his usual way. Sooner or later you'd ask him why he wasn't sleeping with you. You deserved no rejection, and to be rejected by the likes of him just made it worse. By acting in this way he was proving o himself that he wasn't worthy of you. He'd led you on, started falling for you, and you followed suit. Although much slower. Now he's left with a perfect Jewish woman who, dare he say, may very well be growing to love him and he can't find it in himself to let himself be with you. He understood why he deserved such a thing to happen to him, his behavior could never make up for the things he'd done, but you'd done nothing to deserve him coming into your life only to tear it apart. 

A man set his principles as a set of rules to follow and not stray from, that was the point of not sleeping with Jewish women, the point of setting the rule for himself at all. But with you now asleep against him, breathing slow and steady, a leg and an arm thrown over him as if you were the one shielding him, he could feel his questioning his own moral compass. But would giving in just make him weak? If he didn't uphold his own rules for himself, what else would start slipping in his life? Principles were there to not be strayed from and he'd never been tempted to stray from them before. But everything he'd expected had changed when he'd met you hadn't it? What he felt for you was a force that he had not been prepared for, and Alfie Solomons was never caught unprepared. But this lovely little woman had knocked him right on his arse and there he'd stayed. At your feet and worshiping for what felt like lifetimes now as it had been such a natural thing to do, his emotions had never grown so easily for a woman before. It'd all felt so right, so magnetic and unavoidable and so addictively good. But all good things must come to an end.


	47. Snap Out Of It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song for the chapter is Snap Out Of It by Arctic Monkeys.

You didn't remember the last time you'd been so covered in sweat. You could feel it run from your hairline, where your hair rested atop your head, braided and pinned, wrapped in a scarf that held your long, wild tresses together. You're bent over the stove, the heat and steam from cooking the cause of your sweat. With under a month left before Hanukkah, and this being the first, you'd been practicing, You'd gotten out your bubbe's old book's, finding the recipe's in them and trying to dig through your brain for memories of anything that your mother's family or your nurse Ida might've shared with you about the traditional dishes for the holiday. You didn't have much to go off of, but you were feeling invigorated to explore a part of yourself that had been forbidden.

You'd never been expected to cook as a married woman when you were growing up. You'd had lots of training to be a prize wife. You'd been taught an instrument, all the proper dances, etiquette and worldly conversation that should be expected of a Lady. But because of the expectation that you'd be married off to someone wealthy, you hadn't been taught to do much for yourself. 

Luckily for you, your mother and your uncle would never allow a daughter that took after them so much to be so useless should she find herself alone. Taking after the rebellious streak that your mother had always told you came from your uncle, you'd never been one to do as you were told. After your lessons you'd run off to the barn, you'd fence with your brothers or learn cards and gambling from the farm hands that seemed to find your interest very amusing. And you, a black sheep, look just like the rest of the Lafitte's, dark hair, dark eyes and olive toned skin, looking perfectly in place amongst them in your family's summer house in France as you nipped sips of rum from your cousins as it was passed around the room. 

You have some of Alfie's white rum uncorked on the countertop, humming old songs to yourself as you'd take a sip and lean back when the heat became too much. 

He follows the smell of fried food to the kitchen, finding the last thing he expected to see there...you. Your hair pulled back and covered as if you were married, a modest and simple cotton dress that swung back and forth as you moved light on your toes about the kitchen.

"What's all this now?" he says with an amused face. 

"Just a moment darling...don't want these to burn," you say in an almost mumble as you moved a pan off the flames. "There we are," you say with a deep breath and a smile as you wipe your hands and approach him. "I'm cooking, silly what does it look like?" you grin at him, placing a light kiss on his cheek before moving to wet a washcloth and wipe over your face. "How was your day?" you ask, taking a drink from one of his bottles of rum. 

"As busy as yours, it would seem." he says with a gravelly inflection, eyes darting around the kitchen. It'd been a very long and particularly hard day full of annoyance and fighting desperately to control his anger. The head of the Greeks, Demitri was growing older, and becoming more and more difficult to deal with each time they had to work together. He wasn't the only powerful man in London to think that it was time he was put out to pasture, letting his son Niko take over as he was less ill-tempered and had a better mind for modern business. 

After growing tired of arguing over every line of the contract, Demitri showing no signs of negotiation at all, Alfie had told him to fuck off. To come back when he wanted to do some fucking business and not waste his time. Demitri took to that about as well as one could expect an old head of an organization to. 

So his day had been much harder than he was letting on, but he knew you'd worked with the Greeks, no use in whining about things that you already understood. Not like it would enlighten either of you to anything at this point to discuss it.

As you lean on the kitchen island, giving him a warm and supportive smile that said you understood his problems, his brief moment of indulgence in seeing you playing the role of a perfect little housewife is broken into pieces, remembering himself and finding it hard to meet your eyes. Not only were you keeping house, making dishes his mother would make, he could tell there were latkes by the smell, you also understood him on a level no woman had before. You understood his business. You understood the men he worked with and for and no other man in the life had that. All the wives were kept mostly locked in ivory towers, shielded from their own helplessness and ignorance so they could be a bed warmer for gangsters when they decided to leave their mistresses for the night and come home to the woman who'd born them children. He hadn't judged their behavior, they were gentile men, after all, only a step above an animal. He knew he was truly not much better than them and didn't deserve a goddess that understood him in the way you did. 

"From the look of your eyes and the redness on your neck your's was far worse." you say, that same knowing your eyes. He couldn't hide from you. If he tried you'd just find him in his dreams, wouldn't you?

"Is there a holiday that I've forgotten about?" he changes the subject and you give him a half smile, letting it slide and moving back to the stove. 

"I'm practicing for Hanukkah." you chirp. "I've never cooked for it before and I wanted to try out my Bubbe's old recipes."

"Smells proper good, luv." he says looking over your shoulder. 

"I have Latke's, there's brisket in the oven, challah's proofing and there's borsht simmering back here." you lift a lid to a large pot of bubbling red liquid.

"Borscht?" he says in a funny exasperated way. 

"Yes, Ida used to make it for me when I was a child. She used her mother's recipe and I pieced together Russian recipes I found and what I had of my own Bubbe's notes on it to put it together."

His mother had made Borscht when he and his siblings were young. It was as if he would only turn his head he'd see his mother with her arms crossed, eyes narrowed and foot tapping in disappointment at him. 'She's making Borscht, Alfred. She's the perfect woman for you, you silly boy. You let your tired, old mother down in your denial of this fact. God will punish you for scorning the match he's sent you.' is what he guesses she'd say. Wouldn't even have to say it thought would she? He could hear it in the way she'd look at him. And he knew she was right, but he deserved any bit of punishment that came his way. 

"Was your mother ever allowed to cook like this?"

"No...but there were many Jewish members of her personal staff so I'm sure there were dishes she and I had that no one else got."

"Why'd she only share it with you?"

"My other siblings don't know they're Jewish." you say with an odd little smirk.

"Ah..." he says, a thoughtful look on his face. 

"I found out by accident. I used to sneak and hide constantly as a child, I was in the wrong place at the right time one night and heard my father shouting at mother when she asked about my Uncle taking me to Paris with him. The words he called her...and him." you shake your head and sigh. "Much like what Sabini's been known to call us," you say softly. "I told her I knew, and it upset her. She didn't speak to me for some time. I know now she just didn't know what to do with the information. She eventually told my uncle I knew, he said it was inevitable really...that I was too much like them to not be directed towards the truth."

"Too much like them?"

"The rest of my siblings don't look like me. They're fair and light-haired, look like my father. But I look like my mother's side of the family. So you can imagine how this constant reminder of their resilence through his bloodline infuriated him. Of course, I was the least favorite, took most of the blame and punishment whether it was my fault or not." you shrug with indifference and it hurts him deep down to see it was so commonplace that it didn't even scar you in the way that it should have. "I think if he had known the name Channah was Jewish he wouldn't have let her name me that on top of coming out looking the way I do." you give an amused little snort.

"Your name's not Genevieve? Are we back to this again?" he smirks.

You laugh and shake your head. "Genevieve is, my middle name is Channah." you explain with a wave of your hand and small flecks of liquid fly off the spoon in it. "My uncle always told me I was different. Never really knew what he meant by that until now. Other siblings don't have Jewish middle names but my mother did sneak in commonplace names for my sisters."

"Is your uncle still alive?" he pries.

"Oh yes, nothing can kill that man." you laugh, a happy smile across your face. "I spoke to him over the phone recently, actually."

"Ah, so your father can't keep you two away from each other, eh?"

"No one has ever or will ever tell that man what to do." you wear a big grin on your face and he's happy for it, relieved that you at least had some sort of proper father figure in your life. He could see the love you had for the man in your eyes as you spoke of him.

"Not even you?" he gives you a smirk.

"Not even me." you grin.

"You still close?" he inquires, leaning back against the countertop as you prodded away at the latkes. 

"Yes. He lives in Paris, so I don't get to see him often but he's who I go to when I need advice."

"Didn't take you for someone who sought after other's opinions in such a way." his tone wasn't condescending but merely observant.

"He's a very successful man, I'd be a fool not to utilize the knowledge he has. He is mostly responsible for my getting into theft after all." you laugh.

"That so?" he asks, his interest piqued.

"I had cousins that were active in the crime world of Paris growing up. They'd come to our house if they were injured sometimes. It'll really awake something in you seeing a man shot and screaming on your kitchen counter when you're young." you huff out a laugh. "I got an early start with understanding the harm that could come from living such a way. It was much, much later when I got into anything of any real substance though." you wrinkle your nose as if this was also commonplace. He could see where your composed nature amidst chaos came from. 

"Sounds like that influence worked out in your favor then, eh?"

"Oh yes. My uncle never scolded me for wanting to get into the life, which was a great relief as you can imagine."

"Oh, I'd say so."

"He has an approach similar to yours, really." you shoot him a charming smile.

"Really now? What's that?"

"I mean he doesn't think of a woman as beneath him. He always told me I could do anything, and I honestly think he really believes that bless him." you give a happy little sigh. "I bet he'd really like you actually." you turn to look at him from over your shoulder and he gives a curt nod in understanding. "You've never been disrespectful, he'd appreciate that." you give him a small smile and turn back to the stove. You don't see his face fall at your words. "And my mother! Oh my goodness my mother!" you let out a laugh. "I've made sure she doesn't know about us sleeping together because bless her, she'd be worse than Aggie about us getting together." you let out another laugh. "I'm sure you know how mothers can be though." you shrug and smirk. 

"Find yourself a nice Jewish girl, Alfred. God knows you can't look after yourself," he smirks. "Then there's the opposite side of the coin with, no one will ever be good enough for my perfect son. Which is such a bold faced lie." he laughs.

"My mother would faint if I came home with a Jewish man." you smile at first and it quickly fades and both of your chests settle with a throbbing ache within them. You wouldn't get to ever bring anyone home to meet her.

He knows you've gone an upset yourself, he sees your shoulders slump and your face fall, eyes blinking back possible tears. He quickly changes the conversation. "But she'd be proud of you for cookin' all 'is I imagine, yeah?"

"Oh yes." he sees you take a deep breath and carry on. "She'd be very impressed." you nod.

"I mean...I'm impressed. That Kugel you made was brilliant, luv but I'm proper excited about that brisket." he points to the oven. 

"Well, it'll all be ready for dinner soon. Just have to throw the bread in as I let the brisket rest."

"I am glad I'm getting to try to your Hanukkah menu early though..." his voice trails off and he crosses his arms across his chest.

"Oh? Why's that?" you lilt. 

"Well I'll be spending it with my sisters, the extended family 'n all." he hadn't wanted to say 'my family' so it would upset you. 

You hadn't thought about it, you realized you were assuming too much that he'd be spending it with you. Of course, he'd be with his family. You would be if you'd had that sort of option. 

He waits for a response, he can see the wheels turning in your head. "Well that makes perfect sense." you shake your head, tone indifferent so he knows you're hiding emotion. "Good thing I decided to do this then." you turn and give him a small smile before returning to the potato cakes in the sizzling pan.   
\---  
Dinner was great, the best meal he'd had in ages but of course, it was. If it hadn't been he would've been truly surprised, as you were only hitting every mark that he'd ever set for a companion so why wouldn't you also have been a good cook? He wonders if there was anything you couldn't do? It seems as if you applied yourself to something you'd succeed and what a charming trait that was. 

It doesn't dawn on him why everything you made for him was so good, at least until Aggie interjects with a "Her cookings so delicious because it's made with love." Causing the involuntary reaction for you to both glance at each other, not expecting to find the other looking as both your face show the surprise and embarrassment at such a sentiment.   
\----  
Luckily you get distracted and fall asleep with a book in your hands in your bed, leaving him to be able to relax for a few hours and get some sleep. But of course his conscious has other plans. After learning more about your family, your eagerness to explore this part of yourself he'd had a funny feeling in his stomach the entire time. If he wasn't holding himself back from exploring his feelings for you further, he's sure he'd be in your bed tonight, taking in every bit of you he could, being amazed at his good fortune. 

But instead he's alone, face set in an angry frown, scratching at his spots again, staring at the ceiling with his bloodshot eyes. He never compromised, that was a certain thing he held about himself. He didn't want to compromise his rule for himself here either. All the men that had come along into Camden, any who were not Jewish, and some that were he'd told them to never touch any Jewish woman, they were off limits to them entirely. Since he'd broken his rule of even going near them, as he had been...exceptionally close with you he'd already broken his rule, hadn't he? But ignorance isn't something to use as an excuse after the fact in his mind. It might be when it came to sin but he would never consider anything involving you to be called as such. It came down to you being Jewish and whether he knew that or not when this started, it didn't matter did it?

And the things he'd done to you. The thing's he'd said. He could strike himself for it now. He'd slapped you, choked you and used you in ways that now made him feel so guilty he squeezed his eyes shut. And he'd enjoyed it more than any other sexual excursion he'd taken before. This thought only followed by more guilt. He'd never treat you that way now, he thought. And it dawns on him that he never will again. Before you'd confided in him, it was all about the sex. Which was something you, as an adult woman had agreed to and that was perfectly fine with him. 

But now that he knew...the thought of a future with you wasn't something that he'd really sat down and considered before. He was just letting the cards fall where they may, letting you decide where it went or ended as he saw it as you being the one doing him a favor in the first place. And after the dinner tonight, after learning your favorite inspirations from the Torah, seeing you the perfect image of a wife, he couldn't help but have the thought of marrying you cross his mind. He swears at himself for even indulging in the fantasy, because Jewish or not that's what that would've been wasn't it? Only a fantasy. 

The worst part he was finding, as it came to him frequently when he was alone was that he didn't want to stop sleeping with you. He didn't want to stop holding you as you fell asleep and helping you get in and out of your fancy dresses. He didn't want you running at him with bright eyes over some ridiculous idea or story you'd heard to end. He didn't want to see your eyes look at him without that adoration that they currently held for him. He just did not want to quit you in any way. And as much as he tried to wrestle with his principles, telling himself no just made it worse. Telling himself he couldn't, as childish as he felt the reaction was, made him want you even more. Because now the thoughts of falling in love and having a future together were in his head where they hadn't been before. This deep urge that he'd never felt, this pull to you no matter how he tried to reason with himself against it was the most concerning thing he'd come across. He'd never had this problem before, being in control of himself or his thoughts. And wasn't it so fitting that a goddess such as yourself would be the one to make a fool of him?


	48. Running Up That Hill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song for the chapter is Running Up That Hill by Kate Bush.

You're in your room alone for the third Friday in a row. Despite the fire roaring in the ornate fireplace, you felt so cold. You were realizing this was a chill that fire alone wasn't going to fix. No matter how thick the wooly jumpers and socks were that you wore, or how often a new warming iron was put into your sheets it didn't stop. You knew that only the company of Alfie would bring the color back to your cheeks, and he'd been acting so peculiar the past few weeks. 

He hadn't been distant exactly, he still brought you sweets, took walks in the garden together and read beside you in the study. But you hadn't slept together in almost a month and at first the physical withdraw bothered you the most, but now the emotional withdraw was becoming unbearable. You'd asked him time and time again what was the matter. He'd given every excuse you could think of, and all of them seeming to be genuine, having proof to back up his words with being too busy, too tired, his back being problematic, early mornings and feeling under the weather. The only thing you'd received from him in the form of physical affection was the polite kiss to the cheek upon greetings and farewells. You'd kissed him a few times, but found him to be reserved, and you certainly didn't want to kiss someone that didn't didn't want to kiss you. 

He'd given the most common excuse, his back, to you again tonight. He was using his cane, and in the way in which would indicate his damaged nerves were the culprit of his celibacy, but he refused to let you touch him to try to help him. You knew he loved the massages you'd give him, told you'd they'd helped and he was most fond of the feeling of you being so tender with him. So why not now? 

To say it hurt your feelings would be an understatement. It had affected your confidence in such an unexpected way that you'd not gone out in weeks. You'd not put on your jewels, or curled your hair, you'd been most plain in appearance. Both Claire and Aggie noticed the change but they dare not say anything of it as they could feel the cloud of sadness that floated above your head everywhere you went, not taking a chance that the wrong word might break the seal and cause it to start raining down on you. 

You can't sleep, craving any form of comfort and thinking you might find it in food, you layer up your clothes against the cold in the halls that would meet you once you opened your bedroom door and you quietly make your way to the kitchen.

You hear a familiar grunt, a cough, the usual tread of his feet as you disappear into the shadows as he appears holding a teacup and walking back to his room. You look around the corner to find him unencumbered. His gait normal, no cane in his hand, no wincing or sounds of pain to be heard and you spin yourself back against the wall with force. The sight and the realization would've knocked the air out of you even if you hadn't slammed yourself against the wall. You can't breathe for a moment, your heart literally aches, your ribs cracking with the pain of betrayal as you start to feel nauseous. He'd been lying to you. As soon as the thought forms in your head, you put your hand over your mouth to silence the choking noise your body makes in it's hurt. He wasn't hurting. He had been lying to you and the tears start to stream down your face. 

You lay face down in your bed, sobbing almost as violently as you had when you'd heard the news of Elizabeth. You didn't try to contain it, letting yourself feel every bit of misery as it came. The man you'd trusted with your life, even nearly given your heart to had lied to you. Your heart was left in the hallway where you'd seen him, shattered into tiny shards. What was wrong with him? What was wrong with YOU? Why would he not touch you? It wasn't as if he was unkind or uncaring now, he was still so gentle and considerate with you and you'd never been so confused before. The whirling of your feelings for him, the sloshing of your depressed brain keep your face into the pillow, now soaked with your tears and spit and snot as you sobbed well into the night. 

He couldn't sleep, his mind was too insistent of his own self-hatred that it wouldn't allow him the peace sleep would afford him. He paced the halls, face gaunt and eyes sunken and burning. His head and heart in a constant battle inside him, he tried to focus on the patterns of the floor, trying to leave his organs to fight amongst themselves so he could mentally check out for a bit at least. He's passing the door to your wing, now open, not sure if it had been on his previous loops of the halls and he stops. He stands on the precipice of your section of the house, the smell of lavender faint in the air as it moves past him as he walks up the steps. He was drawn to you mindlessly, everything telling him to go to you like it always did, especially late at night. But he freezes outside your door as he comprehends the sounds coming from within. 

He hears you crying. And there was no other sound that could bring him to his knees as it could. He rests his hand on your door, face wincing, jaw clenched, having to witness what his selfishness was doing to you. How could he hurt you like this? The last thing he wanted to do was hurt you and he'd hoped his guise of illness would be enough to hold you off until he could leave. But you were too clever for that weren't you? He guessed you'd seen through him, counted the days since he'd last touched you and realized something was wrong. You'd wracked your brain for answers that weren't there in the responses to your questions that he'd give you. In the midst of his own self-torture, he was also torturing you. 

He presses his forehead against your door, both palms rested on it, hearing your wordless mumbles and sobs as they didn't stop. He takes in a ragged breath, trying to hold back the tears in his eyes. Why was he such a coward he wondered? If he tried to keep you close he was only pushing you farther away by lying. You would see past it soon enough, he knew that he couldn't hide from you. You saw him in a way no one else had. He couldn't bring himself to make you hate him for the sake of sparing you this pain. The thought of you hating him made him made his chest ache and stomach turn. A pain at the thought of causing your eyes to lose their brightness even for a moment sent a searing spear down into his very being that he'd never known before. It was as if he was being ripped apart on a spiritual level as if you'd fused together and taking away your half in him might very well kill him. He was so lost for the first time since the bleakest nights of the war. He had no plan of action, no hope for him surviving this as he let out a pained noise, cheek pressed against your door as the fear violently tried to escape his body.  
\---  
He sees you a breakfast that next morning. You both looked like hell. Everyone, even the servants noticing but avoiding eye contact and not speaking a word of it. You were so cold to him. That warmness, that life in you that he clings to when he felt so lost within himself was gone. You were no longer there for him, he was left to his own devices to find solace for himself now. He'd pushed you too far.  
\----  
You sit up in bed, being jerked out of sleep by a feeling of dread, a wave of anxiety making your heart race. You wipe the sheets over your face, running a hand through your hair and you look around the dark room.

You hear a pounding on your door just a few heartbeats after you wake. 

"Genevieve!" Claire shouts to you as you're already swinging your legs out of the bed. "It's Alfie..." she says, eyes wide and face pale.  
He's being carried in by Ollie and another of his men. The lump in your throat grows.

"Oh, Genevieve!" you hear Olli's scared voice shout in your direction. "He wouldn't let us take him to a hospital, he's been shot."

You run towards him, hands to his chest, feeling the wet heat of blood under his coat. "Alfie?" you choke out, hands moving up to his pale face. He hears your voice and opens his eyes.

"Genny." he croaks out and your heart breaks as your eyes meet before his shut again. 

You hold back the tears, you found yourself in the middle of chaos again and you found the calm in the eye of the storm. You had to for him. 

"Where's he been shot?" you ask as they move in farther into the house. 

"In the shoulder, the bleeding isn't as bad as it was but it's still pretty bad."

"Right." You take a deep breath and let the commanding of your small army commence. "I can fix this babes," you whisper to him, handing still looking over his face. "Aggie!" You shout and she's by your side in a flash. "We're going to treat this just like we did the cousins alright?"

"Right." she says with a nod.

"You boys bring him to the kitchen, follow Aggie." you bark out your orders as you follow closely behind them. "Feed the fire, I need it hot! Clear the table, put it in front of the fire, we've got to keep him warm. Grab the medical kit, Claire! Get blankets and pillows. I'll need scissors and forceps! Get me boiling hot water and bandages." you go through the checklist in your head. 

They lay him down and you touch his pale face and he winces. "I'm here Alfie, I've got you now, love, just try to stay awake for me." you whisper into his ear. You leave the emotions behind as your crew brings you everything you asked for. "Elevate his legs, put the blanket over him. Scissors!" they're placed in your hand you get to stripping off his shirt. He'd been hit in the top of his shoulder. No exit wound to be seen. "Bandages and alcohol!" they appear before you. You uncork the bottle with your teeth, spitting it out of sight, "I'm sorry about this." you say quietly, splashing and wiping away at the wound to get a better look at it as he comes back to life with a roar, raising off the table. "I know, Alfie. You've got this okay, just breathe." you coo, eyes still focused on the task at hand. You press down on the wound to stop the bleeding. "Put a pillow under his head." you instruct and it is done. "How'd this happen?" your eyes turn to Ollie as Alfie groans and curses. 

"Someone shot into the car as we were headed out of town." 

"You know who it was?" you ask with raised brows.

"I got a good fuckin' idea of who is fuckin' was." he growls, eyes now open but weak.

"Don't talk, Alfie. Save it." you put your fingertips over his lips and shush him and he snarls.

"Fuckin' Greek bastard." he coughs out.

"I said shut up Alfie!" you scold. "You need to keep yourself calm so I can get the bleeding to stop. You being angry won't help a fucking thing." he knows he deserves a harsher tone than what you're giving him but he's in so much pain he doesn't flinch. 

"He pissed off Demitri last meeting they had. Told him to fuck off." Ollie says with a disapproving frown as he looks at Alfie with fear in his eyes. 

"Alfie you silly bastard." you shake your head. "You know that mad hatter isn't sane." you growl and add another bandage as the first is soaked through. 

"He was bein' a right wanker." 

"And so have you but I don't tell you to fuck off do I?" even in his state the words hurt him more than the bullet in his bone did. You feel him relax slightly, his brow furrows and his mouth shuts. "Now please just relax for me," you say leaning in closer to him. "Despite you being a right prick I still want you around alright?" you whisper into his ear. 

"Gen I..." his voice sounds weak.

"Hush, love." you say sweetly, putting another bandage on him. "You're losing a lot of blood so don't fight me alright? I don't think it hit an artery though, so I think you'll make it but this is going to be hell for a little bit, yeah?" you inform him. He's not out of the woods by a long shot but you hide your worry from him. 

By the time you've stacked bandages and they're no longer soaking through, he's quiet, the room has fallen into a structured machine instead of the chaos it started as. You send Ollie and the other man home, telling them you've got it and you'll call if there are any changes. 

"I didn't think you'd want them to see you when I take this bullet out of you." you say, lessening the pressure on his shoulder to see if it's plugged itself enough to stop flowing. It's just you, Aggie and Claire now. 

He groans in response, much paler than he was, his breathing more shallow. You look down at him and let your eyes water for a moment, seeing him this weak hurt you deeply. 

"What am I going to do with you Alfie?" you coo at him, brushing his hair back and his face stirs. His eyes blink open just barely. "You reckless man." you shake your head at him, but he finds your face soft towards him. "You want some rum? Help dull me digging this old bullet out of you?"

He nods. 

"Prop him up with more pillows now", you get him to where his shoulder is above his heart, almost sitting up as aggie holds the pillows in place. "Here you are." you pour the glass into his mouth. "Don't try to reach for the glass silly, I've got it, just drink." your voice almost sounds amused. "There you go." you hand off the glass and kiss him on the forehead. "Feel free to call me what you like while I'm doing this, it's going to hurt like a sonofabitch and I won't hold it against you. Alright?" you whisper into his ear and he nods. You kiss his cheek before moving forward. "Or you want to bite down on your belt instead? I'd offer to hold your hand but I can't." he see the small smile on your face as he quirks an eyebrow at you. 

"Just fuckin' do it." he groans. 

You peel the bandages away one by one, careful each time. He winces and hisses on the last, as you have to do it slowly to make sure you don't rip him open again. "Lucky for you the old man uses old guns," you say flatly. "Not going to chance this having lead in it and leaving it in," you inform him. The bullet rests in the bone near the cap of his shoulder. You pour more alcohol, being as gentle as possible as he curses at you. "I know, just keep breathing. Remember our breathing exercises, use that." you say softly, he clenches his jaw and rides it out. You use the forceps to retrieve the bullet. He shouts and shakes his head hard, cursing and spitting, behaving like a wounded animal as you dig into the hole.

He hears the plink of it hit the inside of a cup and he lets out a long exhale. "Fuck's sake." he pants, letting his head rest back. 

"You're doing brilliant, darling," you say as sweetly as you can manage. The wound was rather jagged, still bleeding but not gushing which was a relief. "I don't think we'll have to cauterize it. If you promise to take it easy, I might not have to try to sew it shut. That might cause more harm than good right now anyway." you say to distract him from another pouring of antiseptic. "Fetch my healing ointment, Aggie." 

"Already got it dear." you give her a thankful smile as she hands the tin to you. 

"I made this myself from my Bubbe's old herbalism notebooks," you say quietly to him, covering the wound with it heavily. "It did a world of good on my wounds, should do the same for yours." 

He's not responding, but breathing and you see him wincing and hear him whimpering at the touch.

"Poor things exhausted. Not that I blame him," you say, sighing heavily and wiping your hands before moving to wipe the sweat and blood from the rest of his upper body. "We're going to get you to bed." you whisper in his ear again, leaning over him, fingers running through the mess of dark hair at his crown, he feels your sad sigh travel across his face. 

You get him into your bed. The hurt you'd had for him now long gone, only wanting to make sure he was well and nurse him back to health now, you strip him down and wash him off as best you can. You redress him in warm wool and leave him without a shirt. The bandages have turned red slightly, as expected. 

You get into bed with him, laying next to him, you prop up, as he's sat up just slightly in the bed, pillows under his knees to get him still. "Please don't scare me like that Alfie." you kiss his cheek and caress the side of his face. 

"Mmmph." you get in response, he was pale and weak and cold. You pull the thick covers up to his neck and lay next to him to watch over him until your hurried mind slows enough to fall asleep.  
\----  
The next morning you wake before he does. You sit up and watch him breathe with your legs crossed, your hands in front of your mouth as you chewed your nails nervously. With you taking care of him he shouldn't get an infection, he should live, he should be fine. But you still worried. The close call had taken all that anger you had an obliterated it, replacing it one again with love and gratefulness. He was clearly going through things you had no clue about, and even though it hurt you, you were willing to sacrifice your feelings, hopefully, temporarily for his betterment. You study his face, sickly but at rest. His lips popping from time to time as he murmured in what were surely not pleasant dreams after being shot in the sudden way he had. 

You think that if the bullet had been off only slightly, if it'd been up higher, he'd be gone. You push back tears and try not to think about it as you turn down the covers for a moment to take out the arm that was injured and he moans in pain, eyes still not opening. You'd have to get him to eat, and then get some of the pain medicine you had left over from your injuries in him. You hold his hand, your fingers tracing over the crowns, you'd taken off his rings, they lay on the table next to the bed. You take each finger between two of yours, stroking them and studying the scarred and scaly skin. His spots had gotten so much worse, now carrying to his knuckles. You rise and get your oils, you massage both his hands, covering any spots on his upper body. He only winces slightly, a less painful sounding moan as your gently work his skin. You leave his face, for now, not wanting to fully wake him. You weren't sure why you had always felt so compelled to care for him, because you had from the beginning, hadn't you? Even powers outside of yourself had instructed you to. And you'd fought the urge for so long, and now you were done fighting it. If he wanted to be so damn difficult you'd just have to love him harder wouldn't you? The thought of loving such a reckless man scared you, but you knew you'd loved him in a platonic way for some time. He was one of the best men you'd ever known. The fear of romantic love and accepting that was still out of reach, you weren't ready for that. It made everything real and unavoidable didn't it? It led to too many other questions and consequences. You'd leave the romantic notions for a time when you didn't feel like you still being tossed about in a stormy sea of emotions. For now, you could live with just caring for him, because he deserved it and if no one else was smart enough to see the value in keeping him alive, you'd just have to take the job upon yourself.  
\-------------  
You'd had him sitting up against the pile of pillows leaning on the headboard. He's trying to get out of bed as you bring in borscht to him.

"Get back in that bed this instant!" you shout at him, hurrying to the bedside and setting down the bowl. 

"Ya not me fuckin' mum." he grumbles.

"Lay back in that fucking bed right now or I'll make you wish I was your mum because she'd never do and say the things I'd be doing to you if you don't listen." you hiss, standing in front of him as he sat up on the bed.

"I don't need to be in your bed." It was the way he said your that made your jaw clench. 

"Yes, you do. I have to keep an eye on you Alfie." you say in a softer tone, your feelings being hurt again. 

"NO ya don't, I'm not your responsibility, Gen, quit actin' like I am."

"Might I remind you that you were the one that wanted to come here to ME and not the hospital."

"Too many questions...cops at the hospital."

"If you want to get better you're going to have to listen to me. I've already kept you from bleeding out and taken the chances of dying from lead poisoning away so just trust me." you say in a less demanding tone that makes him open his eyes that had been squeezed shut in pain. He finds your eyes much sadder than he anticipates, and like the sight always does, it hurts. 

"Genevieve..." he shakes his head. "I don't need to be staying in your bed while I'm healing." he says in a softer tone. 

You take his face into your hands. "Alfie..." you let out a ragged sigh and he hears you gulp. "I..." you huff out a noise of annoyance through your nose. "I know you don't want to be in here with me." you admit.

His eyes wince from your words. "It's not-"

"Yes. Yes, it is. I'm not stupid Alfie, jesus christ." you say with tears fighting to make an appearance. "I won't ask you why. I'm trusting there's a real reason for your change in behavior and why you won't tell me." 

"Genny..." he rasps out.

"But I'll be damned if I'm going to let some hurt feelings keep me from taking care of you properly," you say with that determination that he loved to see in your eyes. "So please. If you would just...please just stay in here with me so I can do that."

"You still want me in here?" his voice is small, his hand moves up to lay over one of yours against his face. 

"Of course I do." you shake your head slightly, your tone so loving it makes his dizzy as you speak with such certainty. "I won't be able to sleep if you move to your room," you admit quietly as he sees you swallow back emotion. "I'll be worried sick about you, and if you just stay here with me and not fight me on it then you can also relax and we can both stay sane through this." he sees the watery sheen on your eyes as you blink to hide it. Your face tries to be indifferent but it was begging him wordlessly. 

He nods, and you move the hand he wasn't holding to card through his hair, fixing it from where he'd been laid on the pillows, the bit at the crown sticking up like it always did. He sees the warm smile he doesn't deserve at all come across your face as you fuss with the cowlick in his hair. He squeezes your hand and moves it to his lap, pulling you forward slightly. 

"Shhh." you shush him, lips pouted so close to his own. "You'll only make it worse with words in your state, darling. Save them for another time. You need to rest." your brow furrows at him, mouth in a weak half smile. 

"Thank you." he whispers. 

 

"You don't have to thank me. You should know that by now." you tilt your head and sigh.

"But I do." he states plainly, his eyes matching yours in their sadness. He leans forward and kisses you before he changes his mind. It hurts him to do so but if he didn't he feels like he might burst. He couldn't leave you hurting like this, thinking you were unwanted. Because he so very desperately wanted you. But you were right, it wasn't the time for many words. As he feels your lips tremble against his, he knows you are only proving him right by being such an angel while he's been a lying prick to you the past weeks. In what world would he deserve someone who cares about him the way you do? 

The kiss is chaste but filled with emotion that showed with your pained expressions. You feel your heart sink into your guts, fluttering about like a butterfly with an injured wing. You missed him so much more than you even realized. Without his affection, you felt as if you couldn't ever feel full again. A constant ache and hunger you didn't fully understand. 

"It's not that I don't want you..." he whispers as his forehead rests against yours. "I just..." he lets out a heavy sigh of frustration, both of your eyes are closed still, letting the touch speak for itself as his thumb rubs against your hand in his lap. 

"You don't have to talk about it right now. I meant that. I only want thoughts of you getting better in that handsome head of yours, okay?" you say with a sniffle as you pull away. 

He could never tell you something you'd been forced to hide your whole life, something that once you told him should've made him the happiest man in the world was what was keeping him away from you. Something neither of you could change was the divider between you. He felt just as bad as your father for not letting himself fall irreversibly for you when you'd told him. He didn't want to make you ashamed of what you were by saying it was something he wasn't compatible with, you were the same as he was, that should mean you fit together perfectly. But his damn principles, nothing wrong of your doing was what was making him torture you so. What a demon he was while he was in the heavenly shadow that you cast down on him.


	49. Hounds of Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song for the chapter is Hounds of Love by Kate Bush.

Weeks pass and you nurse Alfie back to health. By the time he's set to leave to go spend the holiday with his family, he's up and about and working on getting the strength in his arm back. 

The words you'd finally spoken had put an ease over the two of you. Without the expectation of sex, you'd found other ways to spend your time together. You'd drawn him as he rested and even as he was awake, placing a crown of laurels on his head to practice for a painting. Even though he hated it, he let you. You read together, finally getting around to the Oscar Wilde book. He'd even worked on some writing of his own which you praised him for. Both of you using art both together and separately seemed to help you both cope. You'd been cooking together, or rather he would instruct you and you would follow, doing all the work yourself as he couldn't because of his arm. He teaches you how to make proper challah and matzo, which in turn you made matzo ball soup with. You'd been taking walks in the garden together, even showing him some basics in painting as you tried to capture the beautiful gloom of the winter landscape of your estate. He thought he was shit at it as he put it, but you, of course, thought he was doing wonderfully. 

If anything the time together brought you closer, you weren't sure if that was a good thing, but you were certainly happy there was no looming gloom above the both of you. You trusted that when the time was right, he'd tell you what was wrong, and you held onto it so tightly to get you through the moments when your heart would thump for his touch.   
\---  
He was gone for what felt like weeks, but in reality, it wasn't. You did keep yourself more than busy in the time being, celebrating Hanukkah with those you shared your home with. You put out the breathtaking Menorah, you read the passages you sang the songs and lit the candles every night. You baked and cooked and fried every sort of thing you'd always wanted to eat but weren't allowed, you gave gifts and even played the piano some nights, trying to give something of yourself to those who helped you every day.  
\---  
Alfie returns, seeming to be feeling better, the color back in his face even if his eyes did read as tired. 

You're in front of the fire in the big family room in the guest wing. You'd readied the house for the appearance of all the Shelby's, rooms dressed, presents wrapped and home decorated for Christmas. You didn't feel wrong celebrating Christmas with them, even if it wasn't something you had to do anymore, it still felt right to be with them and if you weren't celebrating Jesus with them, you were celebrating a chosen family. Realizing Alfie wouldn't be around for Hannukkah, you had called Tommy to see if they all wanted to come to stay at yours for Christmas. You told him about what happened with your father and he understood, he didn't want you alone on Christmas either. Your home was plenty big enough for them all, a grand nursery and many maids and cooks to accommodate everyone so he gives you the go-ahead to start planning for the flood of Shelby's. 

The night before they are scheduled to arrive, you're sitting and staring at the presents under the tree. You'd gotten carried away but you needed someone to buy presents for and you'd spent a great deal of time picking things out for every adult and child. You're in the floor, cheek resting on your knee with your back against the couch as you sit and try to think about any good Christmas memories you might've had. They mostly involved you playing with the other children, and even as an adult that was a part you were looking forward to most. You loved the late night drinking and laughing, the overeating and the gift giving.

But there was something so wholesome and pure about a child around Christmas time, and knowing Elizabeth would've been celebrating her first as a mother made your mind overthink about whether you'd be like her and never have such a thing yourself. For now, you'd just have to be content with the many baby Shelby's that would be calling out for your attention. A Shelby child at every age to let you live out a mothering fantasy for yourself. You'd thought that maybe one day you'd have a child. It wasn't something that was ever at the forefront of your mind, but you'd gone this long and not gotten pregnant you were wondering if that was the result of good planning or luck. Whether that luck was good or bad you weren't so sure.

"Genevieve?" you hear Alfie's voice call from the doorway of the large room, taking you from your thoughts about happy children with his appearance as you hide a frown from him. To say he hadn't been involved in some of your thoughts about children would be a lie. Even if you didn't like to admit to yourself that you were being silly enough to imagine such a thing. You hated yourself for feeling so pregnant with emotion this time of year to even indulge in such thoughts.

"I'm in front of the fire, dear." you call out, waving a hand in the air so he can see you. He appears as he rounds the couch, a stack of presents in his hands. "You adding some to the tree as well?" you ask with a half smile and a tilt of your head.

"Nah, luv." he gruffs out as he sits in the floor next to you. "These are for you." he says pushing them between your close bodies. "Dinnit get to give ya any over our holiday did I? Since I'm not really a part of this holiday celebration ya got goin' on I wanted to give 'em to ya tonight before the fleet of gypsies comes in." he grins. 

"That's actually not a bad idea." you say slowly, head turning towards the tree. You crawl over to the large decorated and shining tree.  
He laughs at the sight.

"What ya doin'?" he thumbs his nose as your bum sticks up in the air as you reach into the stacks of presents. 

"Getting your present, silly." you say obviously.

"Ah...ya did get me somethin'."

"Of course I did," you say in the same tone, tucking it into the pocket of your wooly jumper before crawling back and facing him with crossed legs. "You've gotten me so many grand things, what kind of person would I be to not give you something in return, hmm?" you say with a smile, retrieving the box from your pocket and handing it to him.

"You first." he says, laying the box on the couch cushion behind you. 

"I do have more." you grin an almost childlike smile. 

"As it should be." he says with a shake of his head, handing you the biggest box first. 

"Thank you, Alfie." you say softly, eyes connecting for a breath or two before you tear away at the paper. You pop the lid off of the box, and inside is a roll of new paint brushes rested on top of a new mixing palette with tubes of paint piled to fill the rest of the space in the box.

"You couldn't have chosen better, darling." you say cheerfully. "RIght brand and everything, clever man." you lean over and kiss his cheek and it even brings a slight flush to his face in the painful absence of your touch. "Thank you. They'll be put to use as soon as the Shelby's are gone. I guarantee it." 

He relishes in the happy look on your face, knowing he could still cause such a thing. "I knew you'd been drawin' me too much so I thought you could use 'em since you keep saying you're working on something big." he shrugs.

"You don't have to make excuses, it's perfect, truly, thank you." Your sweet smile makes him sigh. "You want to open yours or should I go for another?" the smile that reaches your eyes stays put and he hands you another wrapped package.

"Another. Even us out." he says in an almost sleepy way as he felt relaxed at the sight of you happy with him in the light of the fire. 

You unwrap it with eager fingers and as always he loves to see the expression come over your face. There's no box this time, but a leather-bound book and your mouth falls open, a small gasp as you reach out and grab his forearm, wide eyes meeting his amused ones. 

"Alfie! Where on earth..." you whisper out, eyes returning to the book.

"France of course." he grins, entirely happy with himself as he should be.

"It's the first edition." you coos, fingertips running over the gold embossing 'A rebours by Joris-Karl Huysmans'. You turn the cover to reveal a signature by the author. "ALFIE!" you squeak, slapping his arm and he lets out a belly laugh. "I've not been able to find this."

"Ya like it?" he coos at you.

"I fucking LOVE it! My word this is...I don't even know what to say it's absolutely perfect." you clutch it your chest. "You...ugh!" you let out a frustratedly happy noise as you lean over to wrap your arms around his neck. "It's brilliant. YOU'RE brilliant!" you almost squeal in your excitement. You'd never met a man more thoughtful and observant. A man who would remember the most worn book on your shelf and seek out a rare copy just for you. In your happiness, you feel that familiar pang in your gut that you couldn't thank him in the way your mind and body were telling you to. You wanted to kiss him and not stop until the sun came up. 

"Ya still got one more, luv." he laughs, returning the hug with one arm, the other hand lightly on your back. 

"I don't know if I can't handle another," you say keeping the book in your lap. "But I have one left and so do you so you open yours." you say with enthusiasm. 

"If you insist," he says with a charming smile, large fingers picking away at the paper around the small box. He didn't know what he expected, but not this. Inside sits a very large gold, diamond, and black ring. A thick and unmistakably masculine band of gold, a solid square of black atop it, a diamond in each corner of the square and a large S so delicately laid in thing gold outlining tiny diamonds that compose the inside of the letter. "Fuckin' 'hell Gen." he says softly. "It's...it's gorgeous, luv." his eyes swing up to find you chewing your thumb nail nervously. 

"You like it? I had it made special for you." you say with a still unsure face.

"How could I not have you seen this fuckin' thing?" he grins, leaning in closer to you to emphasize his seriousness.

"I hoped you wouldn't find it too much. I know I have a flair for the dramatic in my tastes." you smile sheepishly.

"You?" he scoffs, holding up his hand that had multi rings, all large and borderline obnoxious and it makes you laugh. 

"It's not just a ring though," you say, moving to your knees and scooting closer to him. "Put it on, please." you request of him so politely. You take his hand in both of yours. "You see...I had it weaponized for you."

"Weaponized?" he says with interest piqued in his voice.

"The diamonds, all of them are shaped and polished into points, they're very sharp. The little gold wires are also very thin and capable of cutting," you explain as you point out things on the ring but he keeps looking at your captivating face so close to his. "I'd been considering how to get weapons into places when we're so often told we can't bring them. So I thought that jewelry might be the answer. The corners are capable of cutting through rope with enough time and pressure and a solid hit from your strong arms to someone's face with this would easily draw blood and slice them open." you look up to see if he's following, as he'd fallen quiet but you find him already looking at you. "I thought it would ease my mind a bit...knowing that even if you get tied up or find yourself without anything else...you'd have this to get yourself out." your voice falls softer as you both look at each other. 

"Genevieve you clever, clever, woman. No one else could've thought of something like this...let alone design it and bring it into existence. I should like to steal your words and say it's brilliant and so are you, luv."

Your lashes flutter at the praise and you lower your head from his gaze as you feel the heat creep into your face. 

"And you have one last gift, my dear." he says motioning to the box that left sitting on the floor. 

You take it without words as they've got caught in your throat as you decide to nod and smile instead. You pick open the rectangular box, a black velvet case sits in your hands as you take off the lid to reveal a necklace. 

This was the look he'd been longing to see. Your eyes in awe and wide, your perfect lips in an O shape as your lashes flutter for a moment.

"Alfie," you whisper, eyes not leaving the pendant. He sees tears appear in your eyes that he does not expect, but as he considers the cause, it starts to make sense to him. Your reaction also gives way for his selfish heart to imagine what you might look like to receive such a thing as a sivlon (Jewish gift of engagement) instead of a mere gift. Inside he curses himself for having the thought at all. Why must he insist on torturing himself so?

You take the thin gold chain from its weak restraints in the display, a gold circle with a border of tiny sapphires around it, in the middle sits a large sapphire hexagon that sits inside a silver Star of David. It hangs from the chain by a teardrop shaped gemstone, inside the points lay tiny little aquamarine stones. You gulp noisily, wanting to cry but you take in a ragged breath and try to compose yourself. You'd never had anything like this. No heirlooms to wear to signify your heritage, it hadn't even occurred to you yet to do such a thing. 

"Here, luv." he says softly, taking it from your hands and opening the clasp. You gulp and nod hurridly, gathering and lifting your hair and turning your back towards him, as he rests the cold amulet on your chest and the touch of his fingertips alone along your spine send waves of heat throughout your body. The feel of his breath on the back of your neck makes you sigh and close your eyes. There had been no man to light you afire in such a way before. You were afraid of what it meant and afraid of losing it and him as it felt to find someone else that could make you feel this way would take another lifetime. 

You turn back towards him, pushing back tears and hoping it just read as appreciation. "I hardly have words for it Alfie." you manage to whisper out, looking down at the pendant in your fingers. "It's... breathtaking." you manage to say. "I never even thought of wearing such a thing." you shake your head subtly, raising your eyes back to his. "But you were so very right in choosing it." you give him a small smile. 

"Wanted you to have one worthy of you to wear." a subtle shrug of his shoulders. "You deserve more than simple lines of silver or gold. Although there is something beautiful in the simplicity. But nothing about you could ever be simple." his voice is soft and quiet, his brow furrowed slightly in thought as he takes in how it looks so perfect against your skin. Like it was meant to be there, and he was the one meant to put it there. "You've come so far to even know it about yourself, I thought it proper you had a way to let others know without a single word uttered." his mouth hangs open slightly, his hooded eyes pensive.

"And in my favorite stone." you give him a smile that warms him down to his very soul. If he still had one at this point. 

"'Course, luv." another charming smile and he wasn't even trying to be. 

"I feel thank you isn't enough." you let out a huff of a laugh, uncertain about how to express how you felt. "It means the world to me that you got me this." You move again, and slower than the last time as your wrap your arms around his neck. "I really mean that. Thank you. From the bottom of my heart thank you." you hide the tears as your face is buried in his shoulder, his arms slowly encasing you back. 

He can hear the pain in your words, feel the tension in your muscles as you keep a tight hold on him. "You went through hell to know it about yourself, to not hide it. You deserve a reflection of yourself as beautiful as you are." His thoughtfulness makes the tears break free from your eyes. He hears the sniffle before he feels the hot tears fall to his neck. "Oh Genevive, darling." he says in a warm and comforting way. Sweet words so quiet and said into your hair as his arms move protectively around you. A hand moves to the back of your head, the other held fast against you. 

"You're right." you whimper, planting a kiss to his cheek before pulling away. "It's the best gift I've ever received." your fingers hold the pendant as you swallow loudly. 

He uses the sleeve of his shirt to wipe away your tears and you let out a little huff of a laugh at the gesture. 

"Thank you. For being so thoughtful." you say again.

"No, thank you." your eyes ask him for what. "For reminding me that I am still capable of such a thing." his words feel strained and genuine and it hurts you both to hear them.   
\-----  
The Shelby's all file in, from Tommy to the newest of John's babies. Poor Esme looks tired but is wide-eyed at your house as you hold the new baby, taking in the new baby smell before handing it back to her. You greet everyone with hugs and kisses and holiday greetings. You show everyone to their rooms, taking Charlie and placing him on your hip as you settle everyone else in, maids scurrying about and tending to all whims. 

You announce when dinner will be, and let the quiet fall across the halls as everyone rests and freshens up. You sit with Charlie in the nursery, talking to him about what he wanted for Christmas until he falls asleep on you, straddling your lap, arms limp at his sides and face planted into your chest. He snoozes away and you stroke his hair, a kiss to his baby soft hair from time to time, humming to him. You end up laying your head back just a bit too long, the boys peaceful snoozes causing you to take an impromptu nap as well. 

A deep chuckle wakes you up. You flutter your eyes open, hands moving instinctually to around the boy in your lap.

"Motherhood would suit you Genny." you hear Arthur's voice as you focus in the darkening light of the room. You let out a yawn and Charlie grumbles against your chest. 

"I've found myself wondering about it myself." you say after a yawn. 

"That so?" he nods with a thoughtful face, like he hadn't expected the answer. 

"With the passing of Elizabeth and all this with my family I'm afraid it's forced me to think about it." you say softly, not wanting to wake Charlie.

"I am sorry you're having to go through that Genny..." he says with a frown, a strong hand on your shoulder. 

"Thank you sweetheart." you say patting the comforting touch. 

"If you're wantin' little ones yaself ya might want to get on that ya know." he lowers his chin at you.

"Don't ruin the sweetness, Arthur." you give him a grin and push his hand off your shoulder.

"I"m just sayin' ya ain't as young as ya used to be, mum had most of us by your age."

"I'm painfully aware of how old I am Arthur." you shake your head and smile with a sigh, Arthur wasn't ever very good with words. You knew he meant well. 

"I'd just like to see ya with some babes of ya own is all. You'd make a brilliant mum. Ya fierce, yer kind, no one would dare mess with 'em." he laughs, causing Charlie to stir. 

You hold him close and stand, adjusting him as he whines against your chest. "Well if the opportunity arises I suppose I'll have to start considering it now, won't I?" you tilt your head at him and he shrugs.

"I ain't been his biggest fan but...watchin' him with the kids out there this evenin' I'm not entirely against Solomons as a suitor for such a thing. I know ya ain't exactly...traditional in yer ways Genny. I 'spose if you like 'im I gotta get used to the idea of 'im not being such a fucker as I've known him to be before." he shrugs, trying to be supportive and helpful with the suggestion but having someone else say it out loud, to know he's out there playing with children makes your chest hurt just a bit. 

"Linda let you talk like that around Billy?" you smirk, avoiding the subject. 

"Aw, fuck. Aw, hell. Aw...damn." he curses, trying to find a substituted word for his cursing as you snort and cover Charlie's ear as his other is against your body as you laugh and he follows you out of the room.  
\-----  
The next day is Christmas Eve, the children have been shaking the boxes under the tree, the older ones telling the younger ones which were and weren't theirs as the younger ones can't read and just want to guess what's in the ones meant for them. 

You've been very busy and distracted between children running around the house and trying to do some of the cooking yourself. You wore your hair half up, you wore no makeup and a simple dress, the Shelby brothers looked at you differently, not really seeing you dressed down in such a way before. The women seemed to count you amongst their own, even Linda as she kept complimenting your modest dress, cooking and your clear affection for the children. 

You've been in the kitchen, and you follow one of John's girls, two fists full of ribbon running into Alfie's study. 

"I got more!" she shouts, feet carrying her as fast as they can as she rushes into the room. 

"He's so much hairier than daddy!" you hear the younger of the two girls say and you narrow your eyes in thought as to what they were doing. 

"I got a lot 'a bows!" 

"He's wike a bear!" the young one giggles as you peek around the corner. 

You see Alfie, lying on the couch lengthwise, feet crossed with a book in his hands, looking surprisingly unbothered for what the girls were doing to him. 

"Gimmie da bwush!" the little one demands, taking it roughly to his beard, the oldest tugging his hair and putting bows in unorganized tufts. 

"Eh, take it easy there little one." he laughs as he's smacked in the face with one of your hair brushes. 

"Sowwy." she mumbles, holding his cheek in her little hand, tongue stuck out in concentration as she brushes his face in a much more gentle way. 

"You're not doing it right." the older on says. "Switch." she demands, snagging the brush and putting it directly on his beard as the other fumbles with trying to tie another bow in his hair but her little sausage fingers just can't manage it. "Like 'is!" the one announces while she separates and ties a bow in his beard. 

You can't contain the smile on your face, and your laugh is only held in as you have your hand tightly over your mouth. You'd never seen Alfie around children and the way he was letting them manhandle him was beyond hilarious. He's wearing an indifferent face, eyebrow arched as he tries to continue reading as the girls smack away at him, asking him questions as he grunts and nods and speaks to them very lovingly. 

Aggie calls for afternoon tea from the main hall. The girl's heads turn towards the door, seeing you standing there. 

"CAKE!" they both yell and starting tugging on Alfie's shirt.

"Yes, yes...Cake girls. There will be cake." he says with a laugh as he looks up to see you watching you watching him and he raises to a sitting position. 

"You've never looked more handsome." you say with a huge smile and a hand to your chest. It would seem in jest, but it's the honest truth. Something about a good looking man letting a little girl dress him up and being so sweet to them warmed you down to your bones. 

"Yay!" the older one says, fluffing his beard. 

"Ya comin' girls?" you hear John come up behind you before he bends over in a laugh.

"We made da bear pwetty daddy!" the little one says hugging Alfie's neck.

"Ya look great, Solomons, I gotta say." he snorts and elbows you. You give an encouraging nod.

"Feelin' beautiful Johnny boy," he says with an equally amused face and tone. "C'mon then treacle," he says as the girl hangs from his neck, scooping her up and she continues to pet his hair. He did have much more hair than John, so it was understandable they'd want to mess around with it. "I got this little monkey." he says, giving the go-ahead to John to take the older one's hand and walk to the dining room.

Seeing the way your face was lit up, your beaming smile at him made his chest feel heavy and warm. "Never expected to see this." you shake your head and walk beside him down the hall. 

"I got little nieces, yeah?" he says as an excuse. "And I just got back from having them assault me over the holidays so I'm just lettin' the little buggers have their fun." he smiles at the girl who isn't paying attention and tugging on a bow on the top of his head. He sets her down in the doorway, turning to you before he enters the room. "Little help, luv?" he asks with a charming smile.

You happily oblige him and start to untie the knotted ribbons. "Do you..." you almost hesitate to ask. "Like children?" you try to remain indifferent in expression and tone but you think your voice stuttering gives you away as you notice him look towards your face. 

"I don't mind 'em. Pain's in the arse but...they're honesty is endearing." he shrugs.

"I find them to be beyond charming."

"So you..." he pauses in the same way you did. Both not asking what you meant. "Like children?"

"I love children." you say wistfully and sigh, moving to the bows in his beard. 

He nods in response. You feel his eyes looking over your face and part of you hopes he's thinking the same thing you are and the other half wants to run away screaming at the insinuation.

Tommy leaves the doorway, parting the two of you "Gotta go get Charlie from a nap." he grunts.

"Don't be silly, I'll get him. He's so precious when he's sleepy." you say with honesty that Alfie notices. You were such a fierce and career driven woman he'd never stopped to consider that you might want children for yourself, or a family more like the Shelby's. Preferably with less betrayal and chaos but he stops and considers it for a moment as he sees the kind look in your eyes when speaking of your godson.

He misses the days of sleeping with you with no thought to the future. It'd been so simple. Now with more secrets known to him, more sides of you that you were exploring and showing willingly, the thoughts of a future with you had hit him hard, fast and frequently. Especially watching you with the children the past few days and coming back from time with his own family. He pushes it down and swallows it as he turns to enter the room of babbling Shelby's

"He's so good with the children isn't he?" Aggie whispers as she walks arm in arm with you to the nursery. 

"He is. Surprisingly so." you nod and she sees a sadness in your eyes she doesn't understand.

"I've seen you watching him with them." she nudges you with her elbow and you give her a weak smile. "Lucky for you that there are so many clocks around." she says as you give her a puzzled look.

"Are you okay?" you huff out a laugh. "What on earth are you talking about?" 

"Because they cover the sound of your biological clock ticking so loudly." she smirks.

"Oh fuck off Ag's." you say with a louder laugh.   
\-----  
He can't escape the thoughts of you he's been running from over the next day, he hears our laugh, see's you running after children during the day and drunk adults at night and he's enchanted. 

He sits in his study, as to not seem like he's a part of what's going on in the house, but the seat he takes gives him a clear shot down the hallway to the nursery and you come and go all the time. 

"Papa said we're going to the zoo in the spring!" he hears a little boy's voice echo down the hallway.

"My goodness! I love the zoo! Have you ever been?"

"NO!" he shouts as if he's offended by the fact.

"What's your favorite animal you'll be going to see?"

He sees you walk into frame, holding the boy's hand as he jauntily walks, a smaller child on your hip, drooling and fast asleep. 

The boy roars loudly, letting go of your hand and putting up his fingers like claws. You dramatically jump back, hand to your chest and declare that there's a lion in the house and you call for help before laughing and clutching the baby to your chest and running into the nursery, the little boy growling and chasing after you. You would make a spectacular mum.   
\----  
He's sat back with a glass of wine in the corner of the family room, the women except for you have gone to bed and the men up drinking and gabbing.

Esme appears in the doorway with the newest baby crying. "John, for fuck's sake, help me out with this one," she says in a drawn-out way.   
"I've fed her, changed her everything she just won't hush and I'm so bloody tired." she yawns.

"Mind if I have a go?" you ask, your dress makes you look as if you floated towards her. 

""ave at it." John says with a shrug.

"Maybe she can tell mumma's at the end of her rope." you say with a smile, taking the baby from Esme. "You go get some rest, I'll deal with her." you pay her back and she drags herself out of sight. "Say goodnight to daddy." you coo and wave the babies hand to John. "And to uncle Tommy and uncle Arthur." you say with a laugh and a smile as the baby's red and angry face makes indistinguishable noises as it looks slightly confused at the new happy tone that's being used around it. "And to grumpy 'ol Alf." You laugh. "Who you resemble right now I must say." you snort and smile at him, waving the tiny hand still. He rolls his eyes, a wave, and a nod as he watches you leave, bouncing and cooing the unhappy child. 

When he looks back to the rest of the men, they're all looking at him.

"Fuckin' what?" he says with an exaggerated expression of confusion.

"Fuckin' Genny that's what." Arthur says with an amused grunt. 

"What about her?" he says defensively. 

"Ya gonna tell me that watchin' her bein' all motherly with these babes these last days ain't stirrin' somethin' in ya?" he says with raised brows.

Tommy laughs into his glass and Alfie narrows his eyes. 

"If you won't admit it I sure as fuck will." John laughs. "Certainly got the tits already dunnit she?" he snorts. 

"I'm just drunk enough to agree." Arthur says with a loud laugh. They both look to Tommy.

"I'm not a part of this conversation." he says with raised brows and closed eyes, shaking his head and lighting a cigarette. 

"You and me...we've had our bad blood but if Genny likes ya..." Arthur shrugs and takes another drink. "I 'spose I'll have to get used to ya, eh?" 

"I think you all have a gross misunderstanding of Gen and I's relationship." Alfie with a frown that isn't angry. 

"Do we?" John smirks. "I don't know no man, yeah? That could watch that pretty little thing chasin' after these babes and not want to put one in 'er." he holds his hands up in the air in enthusiasm. 

"You'd send half of fuckin' London up the duff if you could John." Tommy says snarkily.

John and shrugs and takes another drink, sitting back in his seat. "They're wild when they're pregnant." he grins.

"Maybe it's 'cause I've 'ad one now, but I can certainly see she should be a mum. Make a proper woman out of her. I know she wants some babes of her own...and your the only man she's been with so I'm just sayin'...happy accidents." he gruffs out.

Hearing that you'd confided in Arthur that you indeed wanted children was the cause of his deep intake of breath but he'd play it off like it was an annoyance. "I ain't the kinda man who likes accidents." he says with pursed lips. 

"So there's in a plan in place, eh?" Tommy smirks and his shoulders shake just once with laughter.

He's never been more relieved to see a pair of children as one of John's middle children come in holding Charlie's hand.

"He woke up and said he wanted auntie Genny but I can't find her." the older boy says with a yawn as he rubs his eyes. 

"Fuckin' 'ell." Alfie grumbles quietly. "I'll take ya. I'm going to bed anyway." he volunteers.

"Thanks, mate." John says with a nod.

"Already a proper papa he is!" Arthur says waving his glass in his direction.

"C'mon lets go find auntie Genny." he says taking the boys hands in his.   
\----  
You've gotten the baby to quiet by letting it suckle on your finger, you're still singing away softly, the older children in the other room fast asleep. You're looking at the tiny little potato of a babe in your arms, swaddled up and chubby-cheeked. You hold it's head under your nose and feel the softness of its skin and hair, taking in that new baby smell while you had the chance. Why did your hormones have to be so aggressive, you thought with a frown. You go back to humming and bouncing the baby, looking out the window into the tree line, trying to not think about your future. 

"Quiet now, little ones are sleepin'." you hear Alfie's hushed voice as you see him carrying Charlie in his arms and guiding the older child back into the room by its hand. "Your little boy here woke up and started askin' for his Genny." he says with a half smile. 

"What is it my love?" you say, moving the baby to one arm and reaching out and stroking the boys hair as Alfie held him. Alfie's eyes held steady on you and your movements. 

"Bad dream." he mumbles, rubbing his face.

"Daddy not very good at helping with the bad dreams?" you say with a smile, knowing Tommy's strong suit wasn't telling someone, even Charlie that everything was perfectly fine and it always would be. Which is what he wanted to hear. He murmurs and shakes his head and it makes Alfie smile. "You need me to put you back to bed darling?" 

"Pwease." he quietly asks. He could swear the words almost put tears in your eyes. 

"Alright my little prince, come to your Genny now." you say as he brings his hands around your neck and you manage to hold him with one arm.

"Ya got him?"

"Don't have much of a choice." you smirk. "I'll be right back." you say with a wink.

Alfie's left with the other child, he looks down at the sleepy boy. "Time for you to go back to bed then." he says with a nod.

"Can I sleep in here?" he asks pointing to a small bed. "My sisters in here, I sleep next to her at home."

"Ah, gotta look out for little sis eh?" he says as he walks him over the bed and grabs a blanket and a stuffed animal on his way back. "You like sleepin' with 'ese?" he asks, wiggling a stuffed bear at him.

He nods and grunts, taking it to his chest. Alfie tucks him in and starts to rise.

"Could you read to me?" he asks with big blinking eyes.

"Ah, 'hell." he whispers, finding himself bending willingly to the polite boy's wishes. "Alright lad." he says moving to the shelf. He sits on the edge of the tiny bed and starts to read him a story about a dog. 

You've put Charlie back down, a plush horse he'd gotten for Christmas bribing him to be a big boy and go back to sleep. You walk in with a fussy baby, and see Alfie reading to the boy and your heart flutters. 

He gives you a nod as he continues reading and you move to beside the crib and bounce and hum quietly. His voice is so soft and gentle, kind and caring, all the things you'd want a father to sound like while reading his child to sleep. You get caught up in your emotions. You shut your eyes and hold the baby close, letting it hear your heartbeat. You turn your back to him, after watching him animatedly but quietly tell the story was just a bit too much for your weak heart to handle. Maybe you'd had too much wine, maybe you were more tired than you thought, but instead of warm feelings, the hurt started to ache in your stomach. Elizabeth would've been doing much the same you were right now if she'd lived. Perhaps even you could've been doing this with your own children if you'd done things a bit differently, but you push that thought aside as you know it's useless.

You're left with your thoughts of the now, and the huge questions that loomed in your future. Why were you getting so damned upset? Did you really even want to marry Alfie? It seemed like such a ridiculous notion to you. You...married. You almost scoff aloud at it. And to have children? With him? Even more asinine.

But a little voice comes forward in your head. Why is that so crazy to want? What made you think you didn't deserve to expect those things out of life? You're hit with anger as you realize your father keeps haunting your thoughts even when you don't realize it. Just because you'd left and refused all your suitors, citing you'd never give him want he wanted from you, a married and obedient daughter and grandchildren to carry on his line. But it wasn't about him now, was it? It was your life, your decisions and you clearly had some big ones to make for yourself. You weren't old by any stretch, but you weren't getting any younger either. You knew you should be primed for marriage and children, having built a business for yourself, taken care of yourself and your money. But was the next chapter really this close? And was it really marriage and children? There was so much left that you wanted to do, and could you do those things if you had children? You'd thought romance dead until Alfie snuck his way into your heart and mind. You would've proudly proclaimed it from the rooftops that it was decaying and buried in a moor somewhere to never be heard from again. But it seemed Solomons had done the unthinkable and raised the dead for you. You don't know why you felt so foolish for wanting romance in your life. Perhaps it was because you'd thought it a childish notion, a girlish fantasy that could never live up to reality so you'd shunned it entirely after finding that everyone always let you down in that department. 

He's finished the story, the boy now asleep as his eyes turn to you. You're swaying back and forth, humming with eyes shut, giving little pecks of kisses to the baby that rests on your chest. It's little hands grasp at your breasts and smack as it fuss's and you remain perfectly poised and patient. You do look a bit tired, your shoulders low, more than a few strands of hair had fallen, but he doesn't know if you've ever looked more lovely. It could be the way the moonlight hits you, the troubled but stoic expression looking like a statue of Madonna and child. He knew the Shelby brothers were right. If you wanted to be a mum, you more than deserved it. You looked born for the role as he watched you with a baby small enough to let him have the outlandish thought that it could've been yours. 

You're so caught up in your own thoughts you don't notice that Alfie's stopped reading, the boy fast asleep and is now shushing another young one in the crib next to you. You wipe a tear that had gotten loose and realize the baby in your arms in asleep. You watch him coo and whisper, lips pouted as he speaks softly and rubs the baby's cheek with a thumb that looks so gigantic next to the wee babe's head. He hums quietly as it smacks its lips and gurgles, he lets out a soft amused laugh, smiling down at it. The way the moon came through the windows, the blue light reflecting off the snow outside, the warm feelings from being surrounded by your what felt like, extended family, everything hits you so hard and so fast. You can't stop the tightness in your jaw or the tears in your eyes. You realize you do want to look at someone doing exactly what he is but have it be all yours. The man doing it, the baby sleeping. Perhaps you can even imagine the glint of a wedding band on your finger as you wipe away a tear. You never thought admitting that you truly wanted such a thing for yourself would hurt so damn much.

His smile fades quickly as he turns his head when he hears you let out a sniffle. "Genevieve, darling, what's wrong?" he whispers, eyes wide and honest, finding yours the opposite. His warm hand brushes a strand of hair out of your face, those rough padded fingertips wiping away the tears that come. 

"Can-." you gulp noisily and grit your teeth. "Can you take her?" you choke out, not meeting his eyes. You move closer to him, holding the baby by the head and bum. When he does nothing but look at you as if you were speaking a language he didn't understand you finally look into your eyes and all he can register is pain and question. "Please?" you say with a furrowed brow.

He nods silently, eyes darting over your face for answers as you move your sleeve to wipe away more tears and move quickly out of the room, your body language reading like that of a scolded dogs, leaving with low shoulders and your tail tucked between your legs. 

He watches you leave, holding the baby close, mouth open and the heat of confusion in his face, the sting of uncomfortable tears comes after he lays the baby down, standing in the middle of the room, eyes moving to nothing in particular as he wrings his hands. This was his fault, wasn't it? He fights the tears, he feels his eyes burn and turn red. He grits his jaw and squeezes his eyes shut tightly. He clears his throat and takes a deep breath and tries to not feel all the guilt that's washing over him in heavy, suffocating waves.  
\----  
It's the night before the Shelby's are going to leave. You're tired and doing one last round of the halls before going to your room. You're crossing the entryway, passing through the beams of moonlight that are coming through the window in the top of the domed ceiling under the stairs, strips coming from the tall windows around the front door. 

You hear the family sound of Alfie clearing his throat as you stop in a shadow and don't turn right away. You hadn't talked about you crying and leaving, of course, and it was all building up and hurting you inside.

"Geneveive." he says your name as the sound beckons you to turn slowly to face him. 

You say nothing but blink rapidly before meeting his eyes. He walks into a beam of moonlight, his face cast partially in shadow as it tilts to reveal an expression that's warm and not confrontational and the tension in your body lessens. 

"There's one tradition I've always liked about Christmas, ya know." he says with narrowed eyes that read as playful now. You walk towards him slowly, passing in and out of the light. 

"What would that be?" you ask standing away from him still. He points up, and your eyes move to obey the directional instruction and you see mistletoe hanging from the chandelier. You let out an involuntary soft laugh that he's never been gladder to hear. You both knew this was just a thinly veiled excuse to do what both of you wanted, but for some reason unknown to you, couldn't. 

His eyes are softer when yours return to his. He extends his hand out to you and you stare at it for a few seconds before moving towards him against your better judgment. He feels so warm as soon as your skin touches his. He puts your hand, fingers laced with his against his chest to pull you as close to him as he can. You almost felt ashamed with the thoughtless compulsion that drew you towards him. You'd had too many deep thoughts the past few days, too many emotions and hormones mixing in a dangerous cocktail that made you willing to turn into something desperate and pliable under his strong hands. 

Neither of you speak, only each others breathing being spoken. His other hand moving to the side of your face and he's as gentle with you as he had been with the baby in the nursery. You look at each other for a few heavy moments, eyes blinking and moving across the others face as if you might've forgotten what they look like as they mist over and glance at lips and pained expressions. 

Without a word, he kisses you. And you welcome it. He leads you gently to him, a kiss of the same nature. He feels your body melt at his touch, your chest pushing against his. You don't pull away or stop him, your lips giving way to what his wanted as they keep moving slowly against yours. You feel his chest rise, putting the hand he held up around his neck as he lets his arm wrap around your lower back and pulls him tightly towards you with both arms. He let's go of your face and a splayed hand rests between your shoulder blades. The kiss goes on longer than either of you intended, but wasn't that always the case when you would give in and let yourself show what you truly wanted with things besides words? 

It's not rushed, it doesn't hurt either of you as you expected it to, it just felt so satisfying. He could feel your pulse and knew your skin must've felt as sensitive and set aflame as his own. It was hard to want to stop, but he knew it couldn't go on forever, so instead, he rests his hand on the back of your head and dips you, your foot popping out as you smile and laugh into his mouth. He kisses your cheek as he lifts you back up, one hand rested on your hip. 

You stand with your hands on his chest a moment, feeling his heartbeat, the rise, and fall of his chest, the hum of his breathing you longed to fall asleep to. You look up to him and find he's already studying you. He's so thankful to find your face now happier than when he found it. He hated having this power over you now, something he'd longed for for so long. You shouldn't let a man like him influence your emotions, you were better than that. 

"I find myself rather fond of the tradition as well." you give him a sweet smile that warms him to his bones. You open your mouth and close it, not knowing what to say. There was no reason to be demanding, or ask for more. "Goodnight 'Fie." you whisper. It was the first he'd heard the pet name in weeks. Thankful you'd broken the silence with the heavenly sound as you pull away from him.

"It is, my luv, it is." he says with a small shake of his head, fingers laced and not letting go as you pulled and turned, staying clasped together as long as they could until they broke apart and you turn to walk to your room.


	50. Make Up Your Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song is Make Up Your Mind by Florence + The Machine.

The holidays had passed. The New Year was upon you, the gloom now settling in after the festivities. The cold bitter winter, the dead trees, and the iced-over pond all reflected how you felt inside at this point. Such a depressing start to the new year you thought, you hoped it wasn't a sign of the rest of the year to come. 

You'd wandered the grounds for hours, bundled up with only your eyes showing. You found the quiet comforting as it was the opposite of what was happening inside your head. Eventually, Aggie finds you, taking your arm and making you come inside, and you let her. It was almost time for dinner anyway. 

The fire in the dining room is roaring. You're in fresh clothes, thick stockings, and wool socks over them, a long nightgown and a jumper that was far too large for you covers the rest of you. Your hair is down and loose and wild, your fingers buried in it as you rest your head in your hands and stare at the table. 

"You trying to catch your death out there today?" asks Claire as she comes and places her hand on your back, then to your forehead. "You feel fine for now." she says gruffly, sitting next to you. 

When you raise your face to look at her, fingers pushing your long hair out of your face, she finds your face surprisingly sad. 

"I thought something was wrong, you out wandering alone..." she says with a frown. "But I'm afraid I don't know what it is."

And as always, he either had perfect or the worst timing and never anything between as Alfie walks into the room, taking his seat at the far end of the table. He sees you looking a bit wilder than usual, and he figures it's best to keep his mouth shut for the time being.

-In French-  
"My problem lies at the head of the table." you say with slumped shoulders.

"What's he done?" she asks with a furrowed brow.  
You hadn't confided in her about the chaos of emotion you'd been sleeping with instead of him. 

"More like what he hasn't done." you shake your head, your voice slow and soft, you rest the weight of your head in your hand on your temple as it's turned to face her. 

Claire shakes her head to show she doesn't understand.

"We've not slept together since Elizabeth passed." you admit with a heavy sigh. 

Her eyes go wide, the news clearly a surprise to her. She thinks back and realizes she hadn't heard you two having sex for quite some time but she slept in a different wing of the house than you so you could've been going at it and she would've never heard a thing. 

"He'd been giving me excuses as to why he wasn't. I found them to be lies." you sigh and shut your eyes. "He finally admitted something was wrong after I pretty much made him after he was shot." you shrug. "I told him then that if he couldn't tell me I understood and I trusted him he'd tell me when the time was right."

"And he hasn't I take it?" her voice is full of sympathy.

"No. Not a word of it again." you rub your face in your hands. "I thought by now he would've told me something. Anything really." you let out a groan. "I just...I don't understand." your voice sounds weak and you push back tears. "I thought surely, as he's kissed me a few times since the celibacy began that he'd perhaps kiss me on New Years, but... nothing." you rest your elbows on the table and rub your temples.

"And you have no guesses?" she tries to be supportive but she knows even less than you do. 

"Nothing. I'm completely befuddled by his behavior." you swallow noisily, tears still fighting you with every breath. "I feel so lost, Claire. I thought we had something. I really did."

"Something?" her lips form a thin tight line.

"You know I was starting to care for him." you turn your stinging eyes to face hers. "In a very serious way." you rasp out. "I'm so confused. I thought telling him I was Jewish might bring us together but it seems to have done exactly the opposite and I've never felt so fucking foolish in my life." you squeeze your eyes shut. "I went so long without finding anyone to make me feel this way... and I finally do and this happens?" the tears win and you focus on keeping your breathing steady. "I'm so fucking stupid." you let out a sad huff of laughter and wipe the tears from your face and sit back. "I should've left romance dead and fucking buried. But instead, I tried to resurrect it and look what it's gotten me." you shake your head and the tears keep falling silently. "A broken fucking heart like a god damned child." your face frowns hard and you rise and sniffle, you walk past them both and head to your room, mumbling, "So fucking stupid." over and over to yourself.  
\-------  
You've gotten all dolled up to cheer yourself up. Or attempt to anyway. You move to the study, holding your hand on the wall before you cross into his line of sight and taking a deep breath.

"I just wanted to let you know I'm headed out for the evening." you say, looking mostly at the ground, both hands around your purse in front of you. 

He moves his head up and looks at you, his mouth stuttering slightly at the unexpected sight of you being dressed up like this. "You- your...You're going out?" he manages to get out, taking his glasses off his nose with one hand, the other at his chin. "You working tonight?" he asks, his brow lowering slightly, trying to recall if you'd mentioned anything.

"No, I just needed to get out of the house," you say with a shake of your head, your voice quiet. "Just letting you know." you say with a slight bow, backing out of the room with low shoulders. 

"Uh-Right. Yeah." he nods in thanks. "You look-" he stutters for a moment, "stunning tonight, as always, sweetheart." he adds politely before he moves his head back down to his work.

You missed the way those words used to make you feel. You wanted them to roll over your skin like warm honey and not stab at your gut like daggers. You tighten your jaw at the pet name. You were wanting to scream at him, wanting to cry, and all you manage is a nod and a smile before you turn quickly to leave.  
\----  
You're out for hours. You dance until your legs turn to jelly. You flirt with strangers you have no intention of even thinking about again after tonight. You take the drugs they offer and the drinks they buy. At least you weren't seeking them out for yourself this time. But a woman like you, and dressed up and willing didn't have to try very hard to get either for free. You move your way across London, clubs and pubs and cars all fading in and out of your memory as the only thing you could focus on for any length of time was him. 

The thought of him haunted you no matter what you put up your nose or into your mouth. No snogs, no cheap thrills or purchases could make him stop. The grief you felt for something lost that must've never even existed in the first place rivaled that of your grief over your sister. It wasn't just loss this time. There was embarrassed, shame and regret to go along with it. And questions. So many questions. He was absolutely relentless.  
\----  
You come through your door, the house is dark and quiet. It's very late, or really early. You can register that it's still dark outside, so you slump and stagger towards your study for a nightcap with yourself. You're leveling out from the number of uppers and downers you'd stuffed yourself with over the evening. You just want some respite, another drink couldn't hurt. 

You take your heels off, one at a time, holding them in each hand as you walk towards the bar in your study, not bothering to switch on a light. You're grumbling in French, as you tend to do when not sober to this degree. You're cursing about how hard it is to open the bottle top, as you're holding your shoes against you with your forearms. You set the bottle down and toss the shoes behind you, letting them land where they may. You hear one hit the floor and then you hear a grunt. You spin around, glass in hand you'd instinctually grabbed off the bar top in self-defense and face the sound. Your mouth open and your bloodshot eyes wide as you search the darkness.

He's brushing his robe off, making a disapproving face at you. "Don't gotta be so violent, Gen." he says in a playful way that makes your eyes want to tear up, shaking your head with your lips tight. He can see your face go from scared to falling. Hard and frowning at the realization the source of the sound is him.

"What are you going in here?" you rasp out.

"Waiting on you." he says hesitantly, eyes taking in the shape that you were in, second-guessing his plan now. 

(Gen's words in French)

"Of course you're here. Never around when I need you but when I can't stand you won't leave me alone. Now you want something from me." you mumble in French, swallowing and turning back to the glass bottle, your fingers fumble as you take in a shaky breath. "Can't fucking get away from you in my own head. I let you in my hose and I can't escape you here. My own fault, really." you grumble, making a frustrated noise as you pop the top of the bottle off. 

"You need help with-" he begins.

"No." you state coldly, your face half turning in his direction, your brow low. " Everywhere I fucking go. Can't just leave me alone after lying to me." you gulp loudly. "Then ignoring me...I don't want you to. " you whisper out, knocking back a shot and letting the momentum of slinging your head back push back your tears. "Can't stand it when you don't and act like nothing's wrong." tears fall silently, trying to control your face that wanted to contort into a painful, ugly expression. 

"Je suis desole. (I am sorry)" he answers in the language you've been speaking. You almost miss it, as your brain just accepts the words in your altered state.

"What?" you choke out, still in your adopted homes tongue. The burn from the alcohol causing you to cough. "What did you just say?" you rasp out, the glass in your hand hitting the mirror top of the bar harder than you meant it to. 

"J'ai dit que je suis desole. (I said I'm sorry)." he says defensively, quietly, but not aggressively as he stands from the couch. 

"You speak French?" you choke out your heart and bile rising to your throat. 

"Oui. Je fais.(Yes, I do.) " he states plainly. 

"Of course you fucking speak French." you say, hiding a rouge sob as a laugh, shaking your head and forget the glass and grabbing the whole bottle in your clammy, shaking hand. You'd never even asked. You'd just assumed. You hadn't thought there could be more ways he could make you feel so foolish but apparently, there were still lessons left to be learned. "I can't fucking believe you." you whimper out, not looking at him as you walk past him.

As you pass him, he reaches out to touch your arm. "Gen, s'il vous plait. (Please)." he whispers.

"No. Don't." you manage to say, closing your eyes as you stop. "I can't." you say through clenched teeth, making the mistake of looking into his eyes. "How much am I supposed to take?" you choke out, your face falling into that twisted expression as you let him drown in the hurt he's caused. You see his eyes in pain just like yours at your behavior as your lips trembled. Your eyes were blurred by tears, you knew you wore your heartache all over your face.

Drunk you wanted him to know what he was doing to you. She also wanted to hit him with limp wrists, shouted incoherent words before collapsing against his chest. But you knew you would find solace there no longer. But the part that wouldn't admit defeat wouldn't let you tell him how you were torn apart with opposing yearnings. Your mother had always said you were stubborn. You move past him, you hear him call out for you as he follows you, you stall for just a moment as your hand is on your door before you start to audibly cry and hurry into your room and shut and lock the door behind you. Not tonight. It hurt too much tonight. 

He stands outside your door and hears you sobbing and it makes him nauseous. He'd let it go on too long. He'd pushed you too far. He knew it was inevitable but the way his heart churned in his chest, he clearly hadn't know just how much it could hurt until you'd done this. He knows what he has to do. He can't live with himself hurting you like this.  
\---------------------  
The morning light is fanning over the dining room table, you sit on opposite ends, the clinking of your utensils the only sound. 

"My house is finished." he states suddenly.

"Oh?" you manage to squeak out, failing to keep the sound steady. Your eyes were still red and puffy from the night before. Your body ached from your escapades and your chest was sore from the crying and the very literal feeling of your heart hurting. 

"Yeah." he sucks his teeth, his hands on the edge of the table. "I figured I could have your girls pack up my 'fings while I'm at work so I can just have them sent on over to the house, that alright?" he asks, giving a harsh nod in your direction.

"Yeah. That's-that's fine." you nod and look back down at the table, your voice quiet and your eyes wide in surprise over your mouth that was parted in your breathing that had picked up in your unexpected panic.

"I should be outta your hair by tonight." his voice was harsh and deep. You'd heard it this way before in meetings and the veil of tears comes over your eyes again.

"Tonight?" you ask, your voice higher pitched by the tense nature of your entire body at this news. Your lashes flutter and your intake of breath is audible.

"Yeah, I was told it was finished yesterday so I figured I'd just move it along." he says, his face now lowered the table as well. "You needin' me here tonight for somefin'." he asks, his voice not as loud as it had been. He was faltering under his own hesitancy and your visible reaction.

"That's just so soon." your voice is weak to match how the news makes you feel.

"Yeah. Well, it's gotta be done so might as well just get it over with, yeah?" he says, his shoulders tense.

"Will you be back for dinner or...?" you voice trails your head shaking slightly trying to act indifferent towards his answer and failing.

"I don't know, Genevieve." he says, looking up and into your eyes, your heart stutters at the hardness you find in them. "If my stuff is already at the house 'n that's in the city." he trails off, shrugging. "It's a long drive back out here innit?" he holds your eyes and for the first time, you hate that power that he has. His words felt like a slap to the face, you hoped he couldn't tell how tense your jaw was. 

"I suppose it is." you say, you take a stuttering breath and gulp as you lower your gaze at the table, admitting defeat. He had to leave. There was no reason for him to stay. You want him to stay but you knew it it was only going to hurt you more if he did. He clearly wasn't apologizing or explaining himself. 

"Right." he says, that same gravel filled groan, dragging out the word and making it feel like a physical hit to your chest. 

Ollie appears in the door and you feel bile burn your throat as he stands to leave. You take an unintentionally loud and shakey inhale as you stand and head over to him, fists clenched and head down. This would be the last time you'd be seeing him like this. You didn't want it to be but you had to tell yourself this to say goodbye as it would hurt too much otherwise. If you kept hope alive it might just kill off any softness you had left. 

You timidly approach him, he turns after putting on his coat, the look on his face surprised at your closeness, his eyes failing to be hard and cold with how yours were so raw and honest. "I suppose this is goodbye then." you whisper, brow furrowing, turning your big doe eyes up to him. 

He wants to grab you and kiss you and go to bed with you and never leave. He could sell the house, it could sit empty for all he fucking cared. But he didn't deserve a perfect woman like you. He wasn't worthy of you. He'd thought once when you were filling him with love and affection that he might be. But even how you'd taken his unexplained distance made him realize he wasn't good enough. He pulls away and doesn't explain himself and you just let him exist? Don't shout at him as he deserves. If he'd woken up with a knife to his throat in your hands he wouldn't have fought you, he was in a pit of despair at how things were turning out between the two of you. But neither of you could change what you were. And seeing now how you'd been secretly and silently hurting at his actions...he couldn't do it any longer. He couldn't tell you your confession was why he wouldn't touch you, it would hurt you even more and he felt he would be no better than your father for making you feel bad about something you couldn't change. 

"Not goodbye forever." he says, looking down at you with a fallen expression, the hard-ass from across the table now gone.

You hug him like you have so many times before. Your fingers grasp the fabric of his shirt to remember what it felt like. You breathe him in, your head on his chest, his arms slowly snaking around you. You don't know when you'll get to smell him before the rum smell takes over everything during the day again. The smell of the oils you had him use while he was here, the ones seeped into his skin from their addition to his baths, would fade and you'd only have the memory of how this version of Alfie, heavily influenced by you would smell. 

"Good. I don't want it to be goodbye forever." you say, sighing against him, rolling your forehead against him as your hands move under his coat at his back to his chest for a moment before you start to push yourself away. You look up at him and hesitate as your eyes meet. "Since I don't know when I'll see you again... could I bother you with a farewell kiss?" you ask, your big brown eyes deep pools he wanted to drown in. He saw in your eyes that you truly didn't know if he'd say yes or no and it makes him close his eyes for a few seconds. He masks it with a smile and a shake of his head. 

"A bother." he huffs out. "You could never be, Genevieve." he says, his arms heavy around your waist, a timid kiss placed on your lips as your eyes flutter shut. Trying to remember every tactile sensation. The chaste nature of the kiss is offset by the electrical storm it produces inside each of you.  
\----  
After he leaves the tears come. The dam was broken and raging. You see the maids moving in and out of his room already. In your grief and desperation, you run from the table and to his room. 

"Don't touch the bed!" you shout out as one of the girls was starting to take the sheets off to wash.

"MIss?" she asks with a confused face.

"Don't wash the sheets. Leave everything that isn't his be. Don't touch it." you say, approach the end of the bed and placing your hands on it. 

"Yes, ma'am." she says with a quick nod and leaves.

You move slowly to his side of the bed, the indention from his head still on the pillow. You pick it up and hug it close, burying your face in it and breathing in the smell of him. You sit on the bed, hands tightly squeezing the soft square in your embrace. You slowly lay down in his spot, your body and mind becoming overwhelmed as you let yourself go horizontal, and letting every tear and strangled cry that wanted to escape, free.


	51. She's Gone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song for the chapter is She's Gone by Hall & Oates.

Alfie walks into his new home after dark the same evening he moves out. To say his words before he left were regrettable would be an understatement. He was always so intentional with his words, how could he have let himself come off to cold and uncaring? This continues to haunt him for weeks to come.

The house is new, it's lovely and pristine and decorated. But it's silent, cold and lifeless. There's fire burning within it, the lack of warmth not coming from anything real, it was more a feeling that had crept into his bones after he drove away from your house that morning. 

"Dinner is ready." the maternal older woman, his maid says in his black and white dress and apron as she bows her head and returns to the kitchen after he nods solemnly and grunts. He trudges to his study, throwing papers onto the new dark wood desk. Only half the bookshelves full at this point, a physical manifestation of his emptiness he thought. 

He eats, but it isn't made with love and he can now taste the difference. He drags his tired, aching body to bed, the not yet broken in wooden stairs creaking under his feet, interrupting his thoughts. He misses the silence of the stone of your house, it let him wander and think in peace at night. He'd wake his staff up if he tried to wander his own halls, but the much, much smaller townhome, three stories of new wood and stone wouldn't let his misery not be known to anyone but himself now. Even though the gaunt sadness that had sat on his face all day, only masked by the anger, that never wavering expression now fading as the moon rose and he found himself alone was giving his true feelings away. He didn't have to wander and make the house moan and groan with the weight of his heavy feet and even heavier consciousness to let anyone around him know he wasn't happy. 

He'd not shared a bed with you in weeks, but it was as if it were the first night he was truly sleeping alone. He lay in bed, heavy blankets up to his chest as he looked around the room. The bed sat in the middle, a desk to one side, an armoire to the other and a fireplace next to the door. The window by the armoire was covered with thick curtains and not a beam of light was making its way in. The red and blue coloring of the room, seemed appropriate for his emotions, running hot and cold simultaneously. He wonders if he should've gotten a smaller bed, his hand reaching out to where your body would've been had he been brave enough to face his own damned principles and just let himself give you both what you wanted. He lays back, the fire dying, rolling to his side and closing his eyes, imagining you were there, hearing your breathing, that warm sensation of being near someone who wanted to be near you he tries to conjure to help him sleep. He thought he missed you at night before, but it was nothing compared to how he felt miles and miles away now. 

Your first Friday night apart he works. He works all weekend and tries to drown out his heart calling out for you in piles of paperwork. His men already growing tired of this foul mood that clouded his every word and action. The fast pace, the noise, and smog of the city were his only portrait to stare out blankly as he took the short drive home. He missed watching the stone fade to grass, the quiet and calm of the countryside at night as if nature was telling him to calm down, he'd be where he wanted to be most soon. But there was no escape in the city, lampposts seemed to spotlight couples arm in arm with their happy faces as he sat in his car. Even in the garden at his home you still couldn't fully see the stars at night, the horns and shouts and metallic banging of the city a constant buzz in his ears. He misses the quiet, he misses the breeze on his face, he misses you. 

He finally comes home and collapses, waking to an empty bed once again. No smell of lavender that radiated from your skin and no warmth to be had. No soft murmurs or tea by the bed, no veil of hair around your sleeping form like a halo, he feels so depressingly alone. He hadn't realized how alone, and having been on his own so long before you came into his life, he could now feel the gaping wound the absence of such companionship left within him. He can see now the importance you'd held in his life, not believing how he could've grown to take it for granted. 

As he wakes, the hurt in his back having grown to the rest of his body, seeping into his mind and heart he longs for your healing touch. To feel the comforting weight of you, to listen to your calm breathing as you work the evil out of him somehow. He deserves the misery, he concludes. 

That next Friday, he comes home and performs the Shabbat ritual with his small staff, a few close friends to show the house to before he turned it into a dusty and cluttered cave like he had the last. Afterward, he sits in his study with a glass of wine, his new dog in front of the fireplace. All he can hear is the crackle of wood. No music, no singing or humming or even the feminine voices of maids he'd grown accustomed to. The house felt so quiet, so empty, so lifeless. He thought it proper his home was a reflection of the state he was in himself. 

"Cyril," he calls out to the dog, it opens its eyes. "C'mere you mutt," he says with affection. "You're supposed to be for company, yeah?" he asks patting the seat next to him and the dog comes as called and puts it's head on his lap and falls back asleep as he strokes his back. "Not nearly as soft as her I'm afraid, old boy. Not to insult you or anyfin'." the dog licks his lips. "At least you do make the bed warmer. I'll give ya that." he pauses "Not as good at that as her either though." he sits in silence, pushing the wine away. It wasn't any fun to drink without you. He missed your cold toes wiggling under his thigh as you read or sketched. The soft hums of interest, the chuckles, and yawns. Although very adorable, Cyril's head resting on his lap was no match for yours. His fingers stroking through your hair as he'd read to you in different languages. He remembers you admitting it didn't matter if you understood him, you just liked the sound of his voice. How could he be so bloody blind. So fucking stupid, he thinks, grunting in annoyance at himself as his brow furrows low enough to touch his pursed lips it seemed. God, he missed you. But what would he say if he reached out to you? I miss you would be misleading, and just cause more problems and everytime he feels the need to connect with you he pulls back because he doesn't know where the fuck to even begin when it comes to you. 

Your third Friday apart, he sits in his study with Cyril on the couch next to him as he reads the paper. He'd taken to reading the arts section, something he hadn't done while living with you as you'd always tell him if there was anything worth noting as it was the section you read first. But in his search of something to remind him of you, he finds more than he bargains for as he finds you. A big picture of you holding an award, a huge painting behind you, title reading ''London business woman honored for artistic achievement." You'd been volunteering at a Jewish children's home, teaching art classes the article says, and through your sizeable donations they'd set up a scholarship fund as the fine print continued to sing your praises. So much charity work you'd been doing.

The award was for your impressionist painting of Dionysus in an unrelated contest to your charitable works. He sees the crown of laurel, the familiar face and he now knows what you'd been working on that you wouldn't show him, saying you wanted to wait until it was finished. It was him, surely, as Dionysus. Submerged in a dark pool of water, flora and fauna and grapes in his hands and that laurel he'd worn around his head. 

He feels his heart warm at the sight of you smiling proudly, clutching the statue to your chest, and by it, he sees the Star of David necklace he'd bought you. You were still wearing it. He feels a strange surge of...hope, was it? It felt so long since he'd experienced anything positive he couldn't pinpoint the emotion. He cuts out the picture of you and places it in a book of yours that had been mistakenly put into his belongings as they were moved out of your home. 

He keeps it in his bedside table and looks at it before he goes to bed sometimes. Some nights it helps, thinking he'll reach out to you tomorrow, falling asleep and piecing together things he might say. Some nights it makes sleep hard to come by as you spew all the nasty things he deserved to hear you say to him in his dreams.

The fourth Friday you're apart, he laments alone. He'd sent you flowers to celebrate your award and heard nothing in return. But then again, what should he expect? You to show up on his doorstep like he had yours almost a year ago? Telling him your forgive his unforgivable behavior and you can't stand the thought of being without him? Ridiculous. He knew he was at fault, he felt so far buried in the hole he'd dug that he didn't know how to get out at this point. Every day that passed that he didn't reach out to you he knew was a mistake. He still thought about you. Often. Anytime he saw a woman on the street that resembled you his stomach would jump. Any downtime he had at work he'd imagine you sitting across from him at tea, eating the round sweet cakes you loved as you'd laugh and tell him about the moronic things men had said to you in your meetings for that day. What he'd give to see you besides in a picture, to hear your voice not just from memory. 

Your fifth Friday apart he'd had to hear about you again today. Ollie tells him you're making a name for yourself in the Jewish community of London. Your money catching attention, then your volunteer work, and your artistic talents. Ollie treads lightly, speaking of how many men were talking about how you were unwed, and their wishes to change that fact. He wants Alfie to go back to you, he's been insufferable since he left. He understands the idea behind not finding himself worthy of a Jewish woman, but who else was his boss supposed to end up with? Poor Ollie took most of the brunt of that abuse from Alfie's stubbornness that he was putting out as he would grow tired of only abusing himself. 

Alfie sits in bed, the sounds of the city outside his windows grating at his ears, he hadn't missed the noise out in the country with you. He holds the picture of you, now curling at the edges from wear. He had put in a call for a gentile woman to come and help ease his troubles as he'd felt rather desperate, but he'd canceled as soon as he'd gotten home. It was like the picture of you scolded him from its place in his nightstand, scoffing at the notion that he'd sleep with someone else. "If you think I won't forgive you now, what would happen if I knew you slept with someone else?" you say in his head. He wouldn't have to worry about only you forgiving him but him forgiving himself if he went through with it. As long as he still had you in his heart and mind, he wouldn't sleep with anyone else, not if there was still that urge to be with you, that hope he liked to smother that maybe he would be with you again someday. He didn't want to share his bed with anyone truly, the moment of deep desperation passing as he looked at your image, he didn't even know if he could've slept with the woman he realizes. His thoughts turn to you, your soft voice and skin, the delicate touch of your fingertips, the swells of your feminine curves as he let his mind wander, his hand his only bedmate as he once again imagines it's you.  
\------  
Your first Friday apart you couldn't get yourself together enough for Shabbat. Instead, you opt to get black out drunk in your studio. You take two bottles of his rum, the paints he'd gotten you for Hannukah and the sweets from his bakery you'd had Joseph get you. You don't emerge for three days straight, having the same rum and sweets delivered to you with more paint and canvas. 

You do everything with reckless abandon. You sling paint onto canvases from every angle, your hyper-realism portraits of his face, some only of an eye, his lips, his hands, you paint them so you won't forget them. Some of the work you do of him is half tears and half paint by the time you finish. You cover yourself in paint and throw yourself against a canvas mounted to the wall. You use your hair as a brush, you paint with your feet instead of your hands and put paint and his rum into your mouth and spit it out at the canvas. You purge every bit of hurt you have that you can. 

As the sun rose on the 3rd day, the canvas you'd been beating yourself against, painting with your bare hands that were bleeding at this point from overuse, the hard handles of brushes and the punches and scraping of nails and knuckles against rough canvas surfaces as had taken its toll. You stop for a moment, the chaos in your mind clearing as the sun rises over the grey hills in the distance. Your body was abused, broken in some places and bruising and pale. You drag yourself to your room, not bothering to take a bath and you crash for almost two days. 

Your second Friday apart you lead Shabbat for the home. You have a nice party for everyone and you busy yourself and share stories with the other women that you employ. You feel like you have support, you feel like maybe you can do this without him. You don't want to but you can entertain it as a possibility most days. Most nights you still cry, but you know that's okay, it's all part of heartbreak. It'll pass you lie to yourself. 

You find sleep to be elusive, only giving you more time alone with your thoughts that led to more tears. Your bare feet, frozen from the cold the stone holds onto into the night as they keep moving aimlessly around your estate. Your fingers, as cold as your toes drag across the decorated walls you pass. Sometimes you think you feel him there, he'll appear around the next corner, you tell yourself. You stand in the doorway of his room, the bed still not touched. Sometimes you sleep there, his smell fading after days spent in it so you try not to linger too long. You sigh heavily, dragging your hands across the different textured surfaces of the room. You'd found some paper with his handwriting on it in a drawer, just notes, nothing of real importance or meaning to you. 

You close your eyes and imagine those strong hands with the pen, the agile bejeweled fingers and the lean forearm attached, tensing as he wrote. You try to remember how it felt to run your hand down that forearm to make him stop working. You didn't want to one day wake and find you'd forgotten something about him, and you torture yourself with reliving the intimate moments. He'd turn his head, face pretending to be annoyed before you'd capture his true feelings as you kissed the tension out of him. How you'd straddled him in the chair you sat in now, hands on the ends of the armrest, squeezing and recalling them digging into your naked thighs as you rode him. 

You sigh and let out a loud groan into the darkness of the room, your head falling back and eyes closing. It was as if you could feel that he was thinking the same thing some nights. Not all the time, but on occasion, a memory would pop into your head out of nowhere, followed by a strong pain in your stomach. You lay awake at night wondering if it was him thinking about you. Was he laying in his bed, staring at the ceiling in pain in every way imaginable at the cold and empty feeling you had in your chest that came when you realized your bed was the same without his warm body in it? You couldn't help but want to know if he was as lost without you as you were without him. 

The third Friday you're apart you have a lovely Shabbat meal you host. But you let yourself have too much wine. The wine turns on you. At first, it makes you painfully aware of your sexual frustrations, and after you've taken care of that, it makes you sad and you cry. You go to his room, still not being touched as you lay in the bed and reach your arm out as if he was there. You have one-sided conversations with him about all the things you wish you'd said. All the things you wished he'd say. You think about reaching out to him. But he'd left, not you. If he wanted to talk to you he would, wouldn't he? You feel used and alone. You cry silently and fall asleep, pretending the heat from the fireplace was coming from him being back in bed with you where he belonged. It felt like the hurt was never going to go away at this point. You were almost ready to give up on trying to pull yourself out of it. 

On the fourth Friday you're apart you're looking at letters, gifts, and flowers as you walk into your office. After the award ceremony and your picture in the paper, there had been a great interest in you by what felt like all the eligible Jewish men in London. It was all a bit much. None of these men knew you. They had maybe met you in passing, none of them you remembered, which was the important factor to take in. You weren't going to be with someone again so soon, it felt like you never would be as you read the hollow feeling letters of congratulations and praise. 

You see a grand bouquet, having set behind your desk so you hadn't noticed it at first. It's full of lavender and iris's. With a stutter of your heart and a lump in your throat, you move to sit in front of it. Your fingers gently touching the soft petals, leaning in to breathe it in deep. French lavender. French iris's. You take the card and your suspicions are confirmed. 

'Congratulations, Genevieve. The world deserves to know how talented you are, and I'm pleased that they aren't as daft as they would seem. Perhaps they have good taste after all. Yours Truly, Alfie Solomons.'

"Yours truly," you huff out a laugh and sigh heavily. "Mine? Really?" you say aloud. "If I were yours you wouldn't just be sending me flowers, Fie." you sigh, your face falling as you rise to stand, looking at his swooping signature. You pick up the flowers and take them to your room, leaving all the others in your office, and there's where they stay. You use the card as a bookmark and put it in your nightstand. You stare at them as you lay in the bed with eyes burning from crying again, why would he send these?   
Knowing what you were up to but wouldn't contact you? Was this some sort of game he was playing? You admit you weren't very experienced with heartbreak, as no one had gotten into yours so deeply before. You felt lost all over again. 

The fifth Friday you're apart you lead the Shabbat ritual. It's becoming easier, you don't have to think about it much now, it's more second nature. You sat and reflected in your study, looking at the award that sat on your shelf, sipping wine in a controlled way, no worry you'd overindulge this time. 

You'd found a peace in giving back recently. You'd been to a synagogue and spoken with a Rabbi and you were on your way to becoming a true member of the Jewish community now. Working with the kids was more rewarding than you could've imagined. Seeing your money going to something to benefit others felt right. You'd been faced with the loss of the future you thought you had laid before you. You want something to be around after you're gone. If that wasn't a family then you'd leave your legacy some other way. You'd gotten this far without a man, a husband or children, and you could keep going without it. It hurt deep down still when you'd let it. A taste of romance that was just out of your grasp and you'd let it slip like sand through your fingers. 

You still want to call him from time to time. You miss his touch, your own just not living up to the fire he lit inside you. But once again you refrain. You didn't know why this feeling wouldn't go away. It persisted through your triumphs and your failures. But every night you came home to an empty bed, your voice echoing off the walls as you speak aloud alone, having no one else to tell your torturous thoughts to so late. You had good days, but all the nights were bad by the time you were alone. He was persistent, never leaving you alone for long and you weren't sure if you were angry or sad. Perhaps both. If he wanted you, he'd tell you. Wouldn't he?


	52. Pale Blue Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song for the chapter is a cover of one of my favorite songs ever by the Velvet Underground...Pale Blue Eyes by The Kills.

You're in your office, sitting cross-legged in your big leather chair, the flowers of suitors covering every previously empty surface of the room, all their letters piled into a box on the coffee table, all except for Alfie's.   
"More letters and messages," Claire says, throwing all but one envelope into the box, putting a stack of messages in her handwriting on the end of your desk, and tapping the last envelope in her hand. "One more from your father." she raises an eyebrow with a smirk.

"Let's see what the stupid bastard wants to try to do now. Perhaps chuck me out of my own house this time?" you scoff and rolls your eyes, the letter opener ripping the paper and thumping as you toss it back on the desk. You clear your throat as you unfold the parchment. "Genevieve, I have seen your work in the Jewish community of London and calling yourself as such. I am gravely disappointed in your decision of that area of study." you let out an awkward laugh "He's upset I'm doing charity work. How rich." you smirk, "Unlike him." you snark. "It has been your mothers wish to see you in heaven after she dies and knowing now that she will not has brought her great distress." you move your eyes to Claire. "Oh fucking please." you groan. "I only ever wanted the best for you, a husband and children to make you a proper lady and wife and mother. I see now you have become the opposite and are happy to destroy yourself and us in the process. No daughter of mine would be childless and unmarried by your age." you look back up at Claire as you rub your temple. "I see mother has gotten him to soften but he's decided to attack something else now. Because all I am is a baby maker. Clearly." your eyes widen before you sigh and return them to the paper. "If you decide to see sense and choose this path for yourself, we may discuss you being associated with us again, as it is what a woman should want for herself and her family. It is a shame to know I have raised such a selfish daughter who would deprive her mother and father of the grandchildren and son in law they deserve after working so hard to raise her well." you set the paper down on the desk. "Is he too daft to realize the children would be Jewish as well if I had them? Daft prick." you huff out a laugh.

"What a crock of shite." Claire says, taking the letter into her hands. "No threats though, which is a nice for a change." she shrugs.

"Let's write one back this time shall we?" you say cheerfully, a pen already in your hand and raised in preparation. 

"Oh yes, most certainly." Claire says, sitting down in the chair in front of your desk. 

"George. You cut me off from my family. I wish that would include you as well. You can't try to control me and banish me, it doesn't work that way. I also find your aversion to my charity work highly curious as you say you follow Jesus Christ's teachings, but I do not find it surprising as the only thing you've ever given anyone is hell. You will leave my mother out of this as you have never and will never speak for her. I loathe the fact that you try to use her against me and lie about her wants, but this as well, does not surprise me in the least as all you are is a self-serving, manipulative snake who isn't worthy of anyone's time. You are the selfish one who did absolutely no raising of me. All you were was a sperm donor and your involvement in my life began and ended with that. You have plenty of other grandchildren and in-laws to try to force your evil opinions onto. I will identify as and do as I please now. My decisions have nothing to do with you any longer, as I don't find you a subject valuable enough to waste my time on to think about. I have better things to do, as you've seen I'm a very busy woman. What I choose to do with my time and body are absolutely no concern to you. I'm living my life for myself, by myself and I urge you to do the same. You will not contact me or anyone I associate with further as my decisions are final. And I ask you to keep my name out of your mouth as I keep yours out of my existence entirely. Your daughter, Genevieve Channah Lafitte." you smile smugly at the paper, setting the pen down dramatically. 

"You do speak well in anger." Claire nods. "The name is a beautiful touch."

"Altar would be proud, yeah?" you smile and blow on the paper to dry the ink. 

"Using the Lafitte family name and your middle name as a stab at him yes. Only second to an actual blade." she nods. 

"Perhaps one day I can make that happen. Not today but," you let out a happy sigh, "One day he'll get what's coming to him. Revenge is a game of patience." you fold the paper, place it in an envelope and hand it back to Claire. "Send this out with the next post, please." you smile at her sweetly.

"Yes ma'am." she says with a chuckle.  
\-----  
He's in his town car, being driven to an afternoon board meeting for a Jewish charity he was apart of. Ollie is shuffling through papers, giving him the right ones for what he needed to know for the meeting, he has on his little gold glasses, as always sliding down his wrinkled nose while it twitched as he read. 

"There's the general agenda, a vote on allocation of assets and the voting on a new board member."

"Mmmph." he says with a grunt, looking over the bulleted list for last meetings minutes. "Feels like the vote came early this year." he says with a furrowed brow.

"It's a bit early yes, but... someone actually applied instead of having a private vote to bring someone in like it's been done before."

"Someone actually applied?" he looks to Ollie whose eyes are a bit larger than usual. "Odd, that." he says, sorting through papers to find the application. "Usually just an associate is brought on without all this fuss." he grunts as he gets out the car, papers under his arm, large coat, shawl, and hat all large and menacing when accompanied by the unapproachable expression his face sat in for weeks now. 

"Yes, I suppose since it's a woman they wanted to go through the proper channels instead of trying to grease palms for it." he makes an excuse, chewing the inside of his cheek as he walks with Alfie to the long table in the large echoing conference room. 

"A woman eh?" he says with an amused huff. "Another would be a good addition. Hopefully, a younger one as Mrs. Cohen is getting terribly old." he says under his breath.

"Well she is." his voice cracks but Alfie doesn't notice as he takes his seat, nodding and giving a brief greeting to the other board members that were still filing in. "Applications here, sir." he says cautiously, handing Alfie the copy. 

He clears his throat, removing his coat, just a pressed white button-up, and his vest over it now, his Kippot worn under his hat still on as he takes off the wide-brimmed, intimidating accessory. Once his eyes fall across the lovely signed named, he closes his eyes. "You can't be serious." he whispers so only Ollie can hear him. 

"I'm...afraid so sir." he says quietly.

Alfie groans, his hand going to his forehead. "And you didn't think this was important to tell me about earlier than right fucking now?" he hisses, eyes harsh and glaring at the younger man.

"I didn't look at the papers until last night and you've been in meetings all day." he says as an excuse. Alfie lets out a small growl, lips moving to under his mustache in annoyance, eyes still narrowed as they return to the paper in front of him.

"Alright. Go on. Sit in the back, now." he says dismissively, a hand motioning him away. He was not prepared for this.  
\---  
"I'm so fucking nervous Claire. I'm never nervous." you whine as you sit in the car, pulled up to the old, remodeled building. 

"It's fine. You're fine. You'll be wonderful. They'll love you." she says patting your knee.

"It's not getting on the board I'm worried about." you turn to face her. "You know that." your face serious.

She sighs heavily. "I know." she nods. "Come on, you don't want to be late."

You both get out of the car, you straighten your dress and have Claire look you over before you go in. 

"Okay?" you ask with an uncomfortable smile.

"You look gorgeous, of course. You'll knock them and him dead."

You give her an amused expression that borderlined on a frown. "I haven't seen him in so long." you whisper as you walk into the building, your heels clacking on the floor, your dress swishing about your ankles. "I feel like my heart is going to beat out of my chest." you groan.

"He won't make a scene and neither will you. It's fine." she squeezes your hand supportively before you open the door to the large room.

You walk in before Claire, your chin high, face as lovely and pleasant as it ever has been. You move like you own the space, taking a seat in the front line of the rows of chairs in front of the long wooden table the board sat at, facing the group of people gathering. 

You don't look at him, you can't just yet. You look at the papers in your hands, putting the glasses you'd bought that so closely resembled his on as you look over the application you'd sent in again. 

"He's not taken his eyes off you since you walked in." Clair whispers, a hand over her mouth to cover the words, he could probably read lips the clever bastard. 

"Good." you say with the first genuine smile she's seen in weeks from you.

"What's the expression?" you inquire.

"Trying to not look obvious but I see his Adam's apple bobbing. He might have even know you were coming from the amount of white in his eyes I can see." she almost giggles you give her a little smirk back. You see Claire give him a nod of acknowledgment as you look over the papers. 

He tries to look away. He tries and fails many times over. He puts the papers that were in his hands down on the table so his nerves wouldn't show. You looked even more beautiful than he remembered somehow. You take off your long black coat first, your form as perfect as he recalled. You tug the gloves off your hands, he sees your pearl-like teeth pull them off, set in the middle of soft pink lips. Your makeup wasn't heavy, your hair was curled and down, you looked an absolute vision to him. Your dress was long and navy, fit snugly at your waist, with beaded embellishments across the bust, sheer panels made up the upper chest that went to your collar bones and long sleeves the flounced about your wrists. It was modest but stunning on you, but you could've worn flour sacks in and he would've thought you were pristine. 

The head of the board Mr. Klein addresses you after the meeting comes to order. You rise and walk stoically to the podium that sat in the middle of the rows of chairs, Alfie sat to your left at the far end of the line of men and one very old woman. 

"Miss Genevieve Durand." he lilts, already showing favor with you as you turn your charm up and give him a very polite and sweet smile.

"Yes, sir Mr. Klein." you give him a nod that's close to a bow with the greeting.

He knew even without the impressive list of accomplishments you'd added since he left that you could get on the board with charm alone. But had almost forgotten the hypnotizing endearing nature of you that you could make ooze out of every pore when you wanted it to. He tries to focus on the words you say and the ones asked of you but his ears seem to be ringing. His stomach aches, his palms sweat like a schoolboy over you as he watches you laugh and raise your hand to your chest as you do so, that slight crinkle of your perfectly sloped nose let him know you were being purposeful in your charm this evening. 

"We have your rather impressive application here," he says before he clears his throat. "But I would love to hear from the woman herself about why you think you would be good for the board as I have not had the pleasure of meeting you before." his eyes are kind, you don't get a bad vibe from this guy and you feel more at ease as he and the rest of the board look at you. "Since you went through the proper channels of applying, might I assume you aren't familiar with anyone on the board personally?" he asks innocently. 

You bury the lump in your throat at the question. "I have seen Mrs. Cohen and Mr. Abrahams at Temple... and I know Mr. Solomons." with his name falling from your lips, for the first time since you'd called him in your home before he left, you move your eyes to meet his. You give him a close-lipped smile that you hope makes him swell with regret. You hold the eye contact but for a few seconds, but those few seconds spent staring into those blue eyes of his, merely a meter away sends something deep in your chest ablaze. 

"Oh, wonderful! You aren't a stranger to us then. How do you know Miss Durand, Mr. Sololmons?" he turns his head to Alfie and you look down at the podium and hold back a smirk, awaiting the sound of his voice.

"We've been in business together for quite some time now. Although we're old friends at this point, I dare say." You're pleased with the answer, and how good it sounds coming out of his plush lipped mouth. Still as low and gritty as it ever was, it rubs up against your skin and gives you goosebumps. 

"So tell us about this business then. I'd love to hear all about you, Miss Durand."

"I'd love to tell you," you say with a wide smile. "I own the Abeille Company of London. I'm currently the number one producer and seller of honey in the city. I also grow and sell berries from my country estate just outside of London."

"Very successful indeed," he says, his tone impressed. "And what work have you been doing in the community, Miss Durand? What makes you a good fit for us?" he asks politely, it felt like a formality but you were here to sell. 

"The first thing I suppose would be that I'm Jewish." you joke with a charming smile and chuckle that the board members all follow. Alfie doesn't laugh but you can feel his smile beaming at you. You hoped he was proud. And he was so proud. You standing and declaring it, wearing the amulet he'd given you, the picture of success and beauty. Seeing you again was breaking down his want to hate himself, that principle he'd set for himself starting to seem less important now in your presence. "I've been very active in the community of London as a late. I've always supported local business, and oversee a few Family ran businesses myself. In my own home and business, almost the entirety of my staff is Jewish. The maids in my home are all young Jewish girls, all of which I've come across while down on their luck, bless them. I take them in and give them a place to live, a job and guidance as they need." 

"That's very kind work you're doing." Mrs. Cohen interjects.

"Thank you, ma'am. I was once a young girl out on her own and through the help of others, I helped make a name for myself. I find it fitting to return the favor." you say with a smile and a nod. "With my charity work, for this particular foundation, I've given a donation of four hundred pounds to support your cause."

Alfie can't help but have a slightly dopey smirk on his face as he loved seeing you throw your money around as a woman. It backed up the power your strong posture and educated words brought.

"And what lead you to donate such a generous amount to us?" Mr. Abrahams asks.

"I love animals and I find it important to help those less fortunate. With your association doing both and helping those with a physical disability at that, I was drawn to it and felt compelled to support its endeavors," you answer concisely. "Although it was Mr. Klein who said it, Mr. Solomons was the first to bring it to my attention of going without sight for a set aside period of time a day, and having done that I would like to say that it is certainly a most effective means of communicating the importance of helping those without sight that exist in world made for those with sight." a few hums of appreciate and thoughtfulness from the group. You see Alfie's fingers messing about in his beard at the mentioned of him, helping hide the impressed look on his face. "Outside of my work with this organization, I also donate money and time to other Jewish causes in the city. My support has helped form a scholarship for Jewish children wishing to seek an education in the arts. I myself teach courses at that institution to bring my own love of art to them as I find it has helped my life tremendously."

"And you recently were awarded an honor for you work weren't you?" one of the men you don't know asks. 

"Yes sir I was." you nod. "Although the award had no relation to the Jewish community, it was an honor to be nominated and to win such a thing for something that I hold so dear to my heart."

So dear to her heart, he thinks, a picture of him being what won, he can't help but be hopeful you were trying to send him subconscious messages. You never toyed with your words, after all. 

"I also sponsor one day of meals per month to the Jewish children's home, where I help prepare and serve the meals as well."

Alfie tried not to fully swoon. You had been a busy little bee without him. Making even more of a name for yourself in different ways. Making a facade of purity and piousness to mask the dirty work you did. It was brilliant and not far from what he himself did. 

"You have been studying with Rabbi Gold to have your bat mitzvah, is this correct?"

"Correct, sir." you say proudly.

"Is there a reason you didn't go through with the ritual when you came of age?"

"The opportunity was not allowed to me at the time and I am making amends to the neglect of my faith and heritage that has been outside of my control by educating myself fully before going through with it now."

"And what have you been learning?" he asks with a casual inquisitiveness.

"I have been focusing as of late on the mitzvah of chesed and that has brought me to the aforementioned accomplishments of mine. I have also focused on my own time, outside of my time with Rabbi Gold, to learn more Kosher cooking. But I must admit it never feels like study because I just truly enjoy it." you give a light-hearted chuckle that spreads to the pleasant smiles of the board.

"Might we try some of this cooking?" he jokes with a laugh.

"Oh, but of course sir." you give a feminine giggle at his casual behavior. The smile and laugh working together make a dopey smile appear across Alfie's face that he doesn't remember to hide. Hearing you speak of all this with such certainty was stirring something deep, deep within him. 

"Is there a particular portion you have enjoying learning about?"

"Yes, from chayei sarah. Actions speaking louder than words." you state matter of factly. Alfie feels the bite in them that must be directed at him. Actions? He wonders. Would getting up with this table and kissing you in front of God and everyone else be action enough? "Being proactive and useful. To actively seek out opportunities for kindness and not only doing them when they are bluntly presented to us as Rebecca did."

"And may we ask if such actions have brought you to be as worthy of a man of the same actions as you? We have no unmarried women on the board, afterall." your face flushes scarlet at the question.

"No it has not, sir." you look down at your hands, the portrait of a blushing bride, full of innocence and naivety. "Perhaps it is in the cards for me..." you shrug. "Not my decision to make is it?" you give a bashful smile. "I must take the lesson of God judging my sincerity and not my success with such things. Although with deception not being my strong suit one has to wonder why." you joke, with a sheepish smile. A laugh travels across the line of people, including Alfie. He was as impressed as ever with you. The words you could spin, the emotions you could pull out of people was just fantastically mesmerizing. This coy and shy but confident woman who he'd seen kill men twice her size, bathed in blood, fucked out of her mind and spilling sinful, lustful words from her panting, trembling lips was the same woman standing before him. Such a dual nature as he'd never known a woman to have before.

"Let us discuss the acceptance or denial of Miss Durand for board membership." he says with a stern nod and a smile. They go one by one, approving you, comments of thanks for your donation and seeing as you were clearly a rising star, a future pillar in the community they would be happy to have you. Then it comes down to Alfie last who is wearing a smug but breathtakingly handsome smile on his face. 

"I know Miss Durand. I'm familiar with her both professionally and personally and consider her a dear friend. I would beyond a doubt support the decision to bring her on. We would be smart to use a strong and clever woman like her. I have found her to be nothing but kind, thoughtful and fair even before she was studying and I have no doubt with her deeper understanding she will do nothing but flourish and be a valued member of the community as she has already proven to be by her generous donations of money and time to not only us but other charities. My vote is an unequivocal yes." your eyes meet while he speaks every word. Your smile growing with each compliment. You look away as he stares you down, the sweet words feeling dirty as his eyes were telling you other things he wished to say. 

"Not that it needs saying but, welcome to board Miss Durand!" Mr. Klein announces. Light applause from the small crowd behind you that you'd forgotten about. 

"Thank you so much." you say with another bright and disarming smile.

You're speaking with Mrs. Cohen afterward, discussing making challah and you feel a familiar warmth across your lower back. 

"You mind if I steal her away for a moment?" he says with a devastating smile.

"Oh no dear." she says happily with a shake of her head and a smile as he moves slowly to join the others. 

He moves you away from the crowd just slightly, a hand on your lower back that feels as if it might burn if he leaves it there too long. "I did not know you were applying to be on the board until I saw it on the agenda today," he says quietly, eyes scanning across the people behind you before moving down to meet yours. "Did you not remember that I was on the board?" he says with a half smile. "You wouldn't have even had to go through the with that inquisition if I'd known." he says obviously.

"Well, I...didn't want to bother you with it." your voice is softer and less certain with him than it had been earlier, he does not miss this fact. 

"Bother me?" he scoffs. "I believe the last we spoke I said you could never be a bother, dear." his voice is less predatory and more caring now. 

"And how long has it been since we last spoke?" your face is more solemn and the sharp stab of guilt is planted firmly in his gut. Your doe eyes full of honesty seek the same from him.

"Too long." he says, his lips pursing together. 

"It has." you sigh and look away from him. 

Claire appears. "It's almost time to leave for the ball, Gen." she says, leaning in close. He moves her head to face the tall man in front of you. 

"Hello, Alfie." she states calmly, no emotion behind it.

"Good to see you again Claire." he says with a nod.

"Just a moment." you say and give her a look she understands. 

"Which are you attending tonight?" he asks politely.

"One for the arts center I mentioned earlier."

"You back to going to them alone then, eh?" he says with the guilt obvious in his voice.

"No." you answer, your eyes calm again as they find his the opposite. His mouth opens slightly.

"No?" he asks with raised brows, his heart falling into his intestines. 

"Niko asked to accompany me. I wasn't going to attend it as I didn't want to be late because of this." you state matter of factly. "But he offered." you shrug.

"Niko?" he says, his false front of civility falling. "The Greek's son?" he says in an offended way.

"Yes. That Niko."

"The son of the man who tried to fuckin' kill me?" his face twists into anger and hurt.

"He had nothing to do with that. He didn't know about it and he didn't agree with it being done." you say defensively.

"And you believe him?" he says, chin jutting forward, eyes looking around to make sure he wasn't causing a scene. 

"Yes. He's not lied to me yet," you say with a small frown. "I don't know why you're so upset, you and I attended charity ball's together long ago if you recall." your tone is harsher, your eyes hard but sparkling with sadness. 

"Yeah." he gruffs out, not looking away from your eyes. "We did." he pauses for a moment, fingers moving to his beard. "But that was different." he says with a deep inflection, brow furrowing. 

"Was it?" you say, the hurt now clear, your shoulders dropping. "I wouldn't know would I?" you say with a bite that he deserved. He'd never told you how he felt, you'd both just knew somehow didn't you? 

He sighs, his eyes mirroring that sadness. "Genevieve I-" he begins and you cut him off.

"Save it," you say, your chest sighing and your voice exasperated. "I know you have words. And none for me as of late." you swallow hard, near tears. "I'm no longer interested in just words and poor excuses." you shake your head and give a small huff of exhaustion to his behavior. "Only actions." you almost whisper. "I'll see you at the next meeting." you say, jaw clenched and turning away before you started crying. 

You had no intentions of being with Niko in any way. You'd made it clear to him this wasn't a date. You knew he liked you, but you thought to go to a ball with a man instead of going alone would be nice after having to deal with wannabe suitors and nosy women at all the ones you'd been to recently. You knew you'd be distracted at best the rest of the night after seeing Alfie anyway. You hadn't come in with any expectations so you weren't shattered in the events that followed, but with his display of jealousy, you had to separate yourself. You weren't his, he had no reason to be jealous and use that tone with you. And to imply you were being duped...well that was just insulting. 

He knew he deserved worse. He'd left and not called. He'd never given you a reason for not sleeping with you any longer, he gave no apologies or excuses just now when he had the opportunity. He stands there and shoves his hands into his pockets, face to the ground as he grumbles to no one, bottom lip hanging in his exhaustion with himself. Why couldn't he just fucking do and say what he meant when it came to you. The emotions you roused in him were uncontrollable at times and he felt ashamed at how he reacted in anger. He could charm the pants off anyone in fucking London and there he stood before you, a tongue-tied little boy looking up at a goddess he could barely fathom. The emotions that surged through him when you were near or even the mere thought of you now was something he didn't fully understand the power of. Perhaps he should stop getting in the way of his own chance at happiness.   
\---  
All you thought about was Alfie that night. You spoke in anger, and not that he didn't deserve it but you didn't want him to have more reasons not to contact you. As your nerves eased, your mind clearing, you missed him. You still missed him despite all the things you'd done to distract yourself. Seeing him made your heart thump like you were a school girl with a crush. He still exuded his power, that charming smile and handsome face, his confident body as he moved with masculine motions. He had smelled surprisingly good, he even looked better than you'd thought. He'd been eating well enough, beard still full and hair peeking out from under his hat as it curled at the ends, begging you to touch it. But you hadn't. You'd stayed strong. You could beg, but you wouldn't. If you had to beg for his attention you didn't want it. 

A lot of good had come out of him leaving, of leaving your heart sitting in your outstretched hand and him walking away. He'd sent the flowers, but that was all. No calls or visits. He didn't stop by, didn't invite you to tea, nothing. You hadn't done these things either to be fair but... he was the one who left. He was the one that had pulled away and you weren't going to beg for any man's attention. You hoped learning about Niko, hearing the hurt and anger, seeing it in your face as you boldly looked into his eyes would prompt him to action. You hoped. But you weren't going to hold your breath.   
\------  
You're in a grand banquet hall, giving fake smiles and polite conversation as Niko has left you alone and the wolves were ascending. Alfie wouldn't ever leave you alone at one of these things. Especially not when the man approaching you was there. Cyrus Horne is stalking his way towards you, he was a physically intimidating man, taller than Aflie, with eyes that made you feel nauseous as they raked up and down your body as he approached. He still gave you that vibration of warning and danger in your gut, same as he had when you'd first seen him at the ball with Alfie.

"Always a treat to lay eyes on you Genevieve." your skin crawls. 

"Horne." you say flatly with a nod of acknowledgment.

"What are you doing here? You're not Jewish." he says with a smirk.

"I am Jewish actually." you state obviously.

"Since when?" he says incredulously.

"Since I was born." you say with attitude, rolling your eyes up to him, lips pursed in clear annoyance. 

"Ah, I see. I thought you might've gone and converted for Solomons." you scoff loudly.

"Don't insult me. I'd never do such a thing for a man." your voice and face full of offense taken.

"Not a desperate attempted to get him back?" you glare at him, your mouth open in disgust.

"You can't get something back you never had, Horne." you shake your head.

"Oh, how poetic of you. Realizing he's a monster just like me?" he shoots you a smile and a wink.

"What you two think you are is no concern of mine." you look away and shake your head and sigh, looking out into the crowd.

"You two were living together though." he says as if it was a huge secret.

"Yeah there was a reason for that." you roll your eyes.

"And it wasn't because he was losing the war in London and decided to latch onto a rising star?" he tries to lean forward and you move away disgusted. 

"If you might recall..." you begin with attitude. "And I suppose you try to kill so many people you forget, that you blew up his fucking house." you stand your ground to his intimidation tactics.

"Ah so the man figured it out." he laughs. "He comes running to a bleeding heart like you to clean up after him?" he juts his chin down at you, using a condescending tone.

"I told him he could stay with me while his house was rebuilt. He cleans up his own messes." your tone is indifferent.

"What a sweet, sweet girl." he hisses in a predatory way. "Thought you might've been caught up in those fancy words he likes to use to lure in women." his voice dips and he keeps intruding on your personal space.

"I've never been much for pretty words. They don't mean shit." you meet his eyes fearlessly, the bite clear in your voice.

"Cleverness inside such an appealing vessel." he hums in a sleazy way.

"Did you not hear what I just fucking said?" you move away from his touch.

"And feisty...I like it when they have a bit of bite." he whispers.

"I don't give a fuck what you like Horne. Can you just fuck off?" your brows raised, one hand dismissing him.

"Excuse you? You want to change that tone?" he speaks slowly.

"No I fucking don't." you say louder.

"No wonder you two paired off....both too wiley for your own good." he groans.

"There was no pairing off. We worked together. I don't understand why you care about Solomons and me in the first place." you say with a condescending lilt.

"Because I've wanted to keep an eye on you ever since the night he was stupid enough to introduce you to me." he gives you an unsettling, wolfish smile.

"Oh, so it's some conquering what "his" thing then? How original." you scoff and roll your eyes.

"Well if he's fool enough to not use you to his advantage than I will." he says in a voice that indicates he thinks he's being smooth. 

"Wow. So pompous! I'm not interested in even being looked at by a man like you Horne. Let alone be 'used'. Take your garish and outdated attempts at sexist compliments and try it on someone else. I'm not interested." you cross your arms and post up against him with a bold gaze.

"A bloodthirsty bitch like yourself could use a man like me you know." his brow furrows as he doesn't back down.

"Funny you think I need a man for any reason. Useless...the lot of you." you scoff.

"I've got more to offer than Solomons. And if you'll help a beast like him why won't you help a beast like me?" he plays as if he's hurt.

"Because he has manners." you state plainly and he laughs loudly.

"Is that what it is? You like to "courted"?" he snorts out another laugh.

"No. I don't. I wish all men would leave me the fuck alone. I don't prefer to be talked to like I'm something to be had. Because I'm not." 

"But all women are to be had, darling. It's how you were made. To take from men." he leans in again, the uncomfortable and aggressive look and tone making you want to gag. 

"Do you hear yourself? Are you capable of self-reflection and hearing? Because you're acting as if you're not. I'm not interested in having anything to do with you, Horne. I wasn't the night we were introduced, I'm not now and I never will be." you hold your ground against his perverted glare.

"We'll see about that."

"No we won't." you spit out.

"I always get what I want Genevieve." he coos.

"No one gets what they want all the time and the man who thinks he does is a fool." you glare. "And I'm not interested in fools." 

"You're too brazen for your own good, woman." he says leaning away from you.

"And saying things like that is surely the way to make me want to have anything to do with you." you stare him down in defiance.

"Who said I needed you to want it?" he quirks an eyebrow down in your direction.

"This grotesque attempt at a conversation is over." you say loudly and clearly, snarling at him slightly. 

"But it won't be the last you see of me darling!" he lilts out as you stomp away.


	53. The Rat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song for the chapter is The Rat by The Walkmen.

You're standing outside the looming stone building among the other men and women waiting for their cars. You'd met Niko at the location, and therefore you could leave whenever you wanted. 

So you shake a few hands and kiss a few more cheeks before standing out on the curb in the bitter cold. Your fur coat pulled tightly around you and Niko's long, lean arm covered in almost as much fur as your coat is around your shoulders, hand rubbing your upper arm in a thinly veiled attempt to get close to you. 

You'd flirted with Niko plenty in the past, it was all part of the job really. His father really liked you and although it was all due to his sexism of finding a woman doing what you did absolutely unbelievable, he was always willing to work with you if you were willing to put up with the pet names and condescending tone. Niko was different from his father it seemed, he looked like he did but obviously much younger. Dark and handsome, clean shaven and coiffed and usually well dressed, Niko for any other woman would be a perfectly suitable companion. He was polite and had been able to pick up on your uncomfortable reactions to his father's crass words on occasion and even apologized in his own way for his actions while escorting you out to your car from meetings. He'd been well-behaved tonight and you'd expected nothing less from him.

"This is me." you say walking towards your car, his arm moving away from your shoulders. 

"Did you have a good time tonight Genevieve?" he asks, his head tilting slightly, taking your hand and kissing it.

"As much as one can at these functions." you say with a disingenuous smile. 

"You've seemed distracted if you don't mind my saying so." he keeps hold of your hand, his face lowering slightly to speak more privately.

"Oh." your face loses it's tension, not realizing you'd let your emotions show through so much. "I suppose I am. Just business. You understand. Lots going on with me as of late." you give a small series of nods.

"Good. I would hate for something to be wrong." he says supportively. "Did you find me a suited partner for you tonight? I'm not acustomed to attending this such as this." he gives a charming and almost shy smile. 

"You did just fine, dear." you give his hand a pat that still held yours, the touch becoming more and more concerning. 

"Would you like to do it again?" he asks with lowering of his chin.

"When I have another to attend I'll let you know, certainly." you give him a charming smile. And you suppose that was your mistake, he was such a decent bloke you didn't want to be rude. 

"Then I will bid you goodnight, Miss Genevieve." he says softly as he looks at your lips. 

But as always it seems, your signals are misread and he leans in tries to kiss you. You pull the hand he held out of his, placing it on his chest gently.

"Niko." you say quietly, in a tone that let him know to stop.

"You can't blame a man for trying." he lets out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "May I ask if it is something I've done?"

"I can't do that with anyone right now. Don't take it personally, you're a very nice man and a catch, certainly." you pat his arm and give him a smile that's real and full of apologies. 

"Thank you." he gives a small smile and he moves to open your car door for you. 

"You're welcome, Niko." you shake your head at him with the same kind smile and he takes your hand and kisses it again before shutting the door.

"Until me meet again." he says with a still hopeful lilt to his voice that makes you feel sorry for him.  
\------  
The day after the board meeting Alfie is back at work before dawn, as was usual now, he'd made his rounds, yelled at everyone who deserved it and some who didn't but he didn't really care. They'd fuck up at some point and he'd miss it so might as well cover all the bases.

He's back in his office, sipping at his tea with his usual angry and twisted face. He'd been up most of the night, beating himself up for not stopping you or saying something. He imagined you waking up next to Niko in that big bed of yours, him getting to know the freckles that dotted your back like constellations, seeing your hair wild and natural as you let out your soft feminine grunts and groans between stretching like a kitten and snuggling up to fall back asleep. Or would you be willing to sleep cuddled up with him yet? It'd taken you so long to do such a thing with him. 

His face set in an unmoving frown, fingers picking through his beard as his narrowed eyes focus on random points in his office, the gold of his rings, including the two you'd bought him, glinting in the corners of his unfocused vision. He'd already gotten to test out the weaponized ring you'd gotten him, and as always, you, and it delivered on its promises. He fidgets in his white loose layers of shirts, his worn vest over them, stained and rugged from working and crawling under equipment and into barrels with it over the years. 

"The first appointment's here." Ollie says appearing to stand in front of his desk.

"What's on the diary today?" he says with a tired, gruff voice.

"First we have a new black treacle vendor, then a meeting on a Williamson's debt, a meeting with the head baker on quarterly profits and losses and last a meeting with the derby boys to discuss the plan for the upcoming race." he concludes with a nod.

"Right." he clears his throat, sitting straight in his chair, handing Ollie his empty teacup. "Bring 'em in."

A man, looking to possibly be of Greek descent enters his office.   
"Hello, Mr. Solomons."

"'Ello." he says with a hand shake, expecting a normal meeting on legitimate business. "What is it you've got for me today, eh?" he says with an indifferent face and tone. 

"I beg your pardon, sir but I'm afraid I'm not here on business with treacle." he says quietly, hands together in his lap showing his nervousness. 

"That so?" he says with narrowed eyes, hand twitching and itching to reach for the drawer with the pistol.

"What I have to discuss with you is delicate and of a very secretive nature. I've been entrusted by my boss to come speak with you as he couldn't be seen or heard speaking with you on record." he says softly.

"Well get on wif it, what the fuck ya want?"

"I'm here on behlaf of Niko Drivas." he begins and Alfie's whole body tenses. The man he'd envisioned earlier getting to be with his Genny, the thoughts of him coming back too fast as he was caught off guard.

"And why shouldn't I fuckin' shoot you right now?" he almost growls, leaning forward on his desk.

"Because Niko had nothing to do with the hit taken out on you. There were many cross words between father and son when he found out."

"Yeah, and? Why the fuck should I care? I still got fuckin' shot. Means I should shoot you dunnit?" he leans forward with his icy stare.

"He wants to have a meeting with you man to man this afternoon to discuss reparations for the act that was done against you." he spits out hurriedly.

Alfie's very surprised at the words he's hearing. His chin pushing into his chest with disbelief. "Reparations, eh?" his mouth forms a hard line that is half smirk and half frown.

"Yes. As I said, secrecy is of the utmost importance as his father does not know he will be seeing you."

"Hmmm. Interestin' that." his fingers play across the brass handle of the drawer in his desk. "Why should I believe a fuckin' word you say?"

"Because Niko sees his father's actions as the last straw in a long line of building bad decisions for the family business."

"Thought you Greek's were all about family and loyalty and that."

"When someone steps so far out of line to endanger the entire family there have to be repercussions for the behavior. Family or not. These lines are drawn when family and business are on in the same."

"Mmm." he says thoughtfully, hand moving back to his beard. He had been forming a plan to get back at the Greek's, but Alfie had patience and he was waiting for the right time to act to fuck them over as much as possible.

"Niko sees you as a valuable business partner and doesn't want trouble with you or the Jews." he shakes his head, eyes wider that Alfie reads as full of fear and honesty.

"Trying to fuckin' kill me ain't exactly the right way to show that innit?" he purses his lips.

"Niko hopes that thwarting off any further action from his father after his failed attempt might show you how serious he is and would solidify a meeting with you."

"Just him, yeah. No weapons, no men with us just him." he states, a pointed finger hitting the desk in front of him hard to show his points.

"Whatever conditions you set he is willing to meet in a show of good faith."

Alfie thinks for a moment, nose twitching, huffing out a heavy breath before he returns his focus to the man in front of him. "Right." he groans out. "This afternoon ya said?"

"Yes sir." he nods in agreement.

"Check with Ollie, I can get him in after most of my men are out." he nods and moves his hand to dismiss him. "And if ya think you're gonna fuckin' pull somethin' on me he should know there'll be hell to pay for fuckin' all of ya, yeah?" his tone and the look in his eyes showing his seriousness.

"We wouldn't expect anything less for betrayal. He'll be coming this afternoon."

And with that, Alfie had to sit and wonder what the fuck was going on and wondering if you had anything to do with it since it seemed you and Niko had been spending time together.   
\-----  
"Thank you for meeting with me Alfie. I didn't like having to catch you off guard to do so but as Alec told you, I couldn't have anyone else know about this."

"And what exactly is this?"

"I'd like to apologize, for what it's worth for what my father did. I had nothing to do with it, neither did my brothers. He acted on his own as he knew we wouldn't have approved of such a stupid thing being carried out."

"Callin' something your father did stupid...Hmmm." he purses his lips, his face thoughtful as he was willing to listen but still guarded. "That's interesting, that."

"I'm calling it what it is." he says with an obvious tone. "The Jews and Greeks have worked together for a long time now. I like to think it's a mutually beneficial relationship and I don't want that ruined."

"I was told there would be reparations, what exactly was your boy on about there?"

"Revenge. I would like your help in going through with a plan to fix this problem."

"My help?" he scoffs and shakes his head. "Try to shoot me then ask for my fuckin' help?" he lowers his brow and stares the swarthy man across his desk with intent to intimidate.

"I didn't have any-" he begins less calmly, his nerves started to show. 

"IYa didn't know, you said that. Go on with it." he orders, moving his hand to indicate he was to give him something new. 

"I was hoping since there were no further hits taken out on you, you might see that as a gesture of good faith." the man's eyes dart away from his own. 

"Yeah, ya boy said that too. Tell me somefin' I don't know." he sighs to show his impatience. 

"In the hopes of showing honesty and transparency will have you agree to my rather outlandish plan, Out of fear of you retaliating, I will admit there were discussions of simply trying to finish you off out of fear of retaliation." he shrugs with an unsure face.

Alfie smirks. "At least you aren't entirely fuckin' stupid it would seem. And what stopped that plan?"

"Well...Genevieve Durand did." he states matter of factly.

Alfie blinks rapidly, the last thing he expected to be brought up in this meeting was Genny.

"Genevieve?" he asks, the surprise clear in his voice. 

"Yes. She came to my father, who is a big fan of hers, adores the woman, and she asked that you not be killed."

"She did, did she?" his eyes dart around the room under their heavy hoods.

"And I'm taking it you had nothing to do with that then? I had thought you might've used her, knowing Demitri liked her so much."

"It would seem Miss Durand acted on her own interests."

"Well, I believe a thank you is in order to Miss Durand." he lets out an uneasy huff of a laugh as Aflie glares at him again for the comment. "I would actually like to involve her in this plan of mine if you're open to bringing someone else in. We both work with her and I have found her to be trustworthy and would be willing to include her. Have you had much the same experience? If you don't mind my asking."

The boy was polite, he knew how to speak to flatter and he can see why you'd have let him accompany you out now. The vague feeling of a threat prickles up his neck, but not from the job in question, but from Niko himself. He was too well mannered. 

"I have and after you tell me, I'll let you know if I believe her suited for it." he nods and leans back in his chair, straight face towards the younger man in front of him. "Go on then, tell us ya plan." 

"I plan on assassinating my father." he says with a much darker tone, a face that read sad at the news but also very serious.

Alfie's brows raise and he grins, laughing for a moment. "Fuck me." he lets his shoulders shake. "Do go on." 

"He's caused too many problems, we can't get him to agree to step down and for fear of running us into the ground and losing everything, he needs to be taken out. His mental state has slipped beyond recovery and as much as I hate to do so, he needs to be removed."

"And what the fuck do I have to do with this?"

"I had hoped we could use your place and good standing with the police to lure him in. We have gotten him to agree to an apology, and thought that if you invited him here for a truce he would not be expecting such a thing to happen."

"Mmm Hmm." he purse his lips tightly. 

"I would ask that you make it quick and painless, as he is my father, although to what degree is left of him mentally at this point is up to question but I don't want the man to suffer." his face falls a bit sad.

"Right." he nods. "And Miss Durand?"

"If it is just a meeting with you, he might be suspicious as to you turning on him, but if Genevieve is involved, his guard would be down because wouldn't expect a woman to do such a thing. Especially after how she appealed to him to not kill you, I think if she played mediator the whole thing would go smoothly."

"And how was it she appealed to him?" he would've preferred a typed up transcription of what happened, but any information would work at this point. He didn't know if he was angry at you for meddling in his business. But he knew you'd done it to save his life. And you'd done this while he was ignoring you which made the guilt bubble up within him again.

"She used her feminine charms as she always does with him." he wears a smile with the spoken words that Alfie does not care for. What did he know of your feminine charms? "She told him that killing you would hurt her business and you were a dear friend and it would cause her so much grief to lose you and if you were to die by his hand that she would simply never forgive him and refuse to do business with him any longer." he moves his hands as he speaks. "And my father has a soft spot for her. I think he finds her being in business and doing the same work as men as amusing, but she certainly works that in her favor. She's a clever girl, that Genevieve." he grins and nods.

Alfie stews in his anger for a moment. Part of him wanted to strangle Niko for knowing anything about your cleverness but that wasn't exactly fair. "I think bringing her in on this would be wise. She would diffuse the situation." he says indifferently. 

"Would you like to speak to her about it or would you rather I do it? As I said, I haven't spoken to her about it, but I might be seeing her soon and it wouldn't be a problem to handle it myself."

Be seeing her soon? What the fuck did that mean? Who did he think he was coming into his office and speaking about his Genny in such a way. Like he knew her. Did he know her favorite flavor of sweet? Did he know she could play piano but hated because of the old evil hag of a teacher that taught her? Did he know what a monster her father was? He stops himself, his face flushing in anger before he even knew what was building in him. He wasn't about to give him an excuse to talk to you. 

"No." he shakes his head, voice coming out calm and collected. "I'll speak to her about it. I have other business to discuss with her." he doesn't meet the other man's eyes, just leave them narrowed to let him wonder what he meant. See, he could show he knew Genny well too. "I won't speak on behalf of her, but it seems like something she might be interested in for the right price, same as me. I assume you have loose ends tied up and have a plan in place for after this happens? I don't want either she or I to be blamed and you'd have a mutiny on your hands otherwise."

"Of course. All whispers currently. This plan will be carried out in the future, but of course, seeing as you are a key player in it I wanted all of my bets placed in the appropriate places before moving forward with anything more solid."

"Right then." he nods, his fingers in his beard again. "That will give me time to speak with Genevive then. After I do I'll reach out to you much in the same way you did me."

"That would work for me as well."

Niko leaves, bundled up and face covered out the back way of the warehouse. Alfie sits back down, legs spread apart in his chair, fingers stroking the chain of his glasses. Now the intrusive thoughts about you could be let free.

The nauseating thoughts of you in bed with Niko come again, feeling less a self-hating fantasy and more solid now he grinds his teeth, fingers picking a loose thread on the arm of his chair too roughly, but the pain of his nail being picked back is welcome as his heart rate increases. 

This plan would be happening months from now. But he would be speaking to you sooner than that. He knew if he went to you with only business to discuss you'd never forgive him and he didn't plan on doing that. If in these weeks and months he let you be, you and Niko 'maybe seeing each other' as he'd said, and if by the time this plan comes to fruition you are with Niko he'd have to kill every fucking Greek in the room wouldn't he? 

He realizes he can't do business with someone that had you. Not only wouldn't but couldn't. He'd let his emotions get in the way and look for any excuse to take them out. You'd go from man to man, he'd kill all of them and it'd be his undoing. He couldn't have that. It benefited no one and left you hating him. 

He thinks of having to see you with someone else and the nausea grows worse. He'd shoot a man in public, wouldn't he? What the fuck was wrong with him, what were you doing to him? He'd never felt like this before, he'd always been so proud to be in control of his emotions and with a single 'yes' you'd taken down all those years of practice and resolve. What sort of power was it that resided in you that made him act so recklessly? He imagines you in another man's arms, dressed so stunningly and dripping in jewels. Your head thrown back in a laugh, your hand at your chest as you coo and wrinkle your perfect nose at their funny and charming words. Those could be his funny words, his charm causing you to snort in public, his arms around you and his money buying you all the gowns and jewels you could ever want. He'd spend every last pound he had for you. He'd... well he'd give up anything wouldn't he? He realizes everything is so damned empty without you. Business meant less, his friendships had suffered as he was tired of hearing what a miserable arse he was when he'd go out, so he stayed at work instead now. 

What was life without you now? No pleasure to be had in anything. Principles be damned, he didn't care about them anymore. He didn't care about anything as much as he cared about you, did he? He realizes this half-life he's been living wasn't worth it. So he's breaking his own rule. Besides the thing being reinforced by no one but himself, there were negative reasons for him to not be with you. If he wasn't meant to be with the perfect Jewish woman who came into his life and cared about him ...then who the fuck else was he supposed to be with? 

"Ollie!" he shouts, the man appearing in his doorway. "Call Ishmael, I'm going to be going home."

"Right, sir." Ollie says with a furrowed brow, surprised that he was planning to leave at all. 

"Gas up the car. We're going to be headed out of town afterward." he says with a determined stare and Ollie politely complies. 

He was going to go to you and tell you everything you deserved to hear. All the years of spinning pretty words to get his way have lead to this. He would try to apologize and convince you to be with him now. If you wouldn't, he would face it, but he knew he had to try.


	54. Whole Wide World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song for the chapter is Whole Wide World by Wreckless Eric.

His fingers kept gripping and regripping the top of his cane, he stared out the window, a menacing glare on his face as the stone of the city started to fade and the hills of the countryside started to replace it. His mind was going over a million different things that he could say to you. Where to begin? Where to end? Should he just wing it? Should he be light or heavy handed with you? So many questions, none were focused on long enough to get any real answers from himself as each thought led to another question, leaving his eyes wild and unsure as he reaches the driveway of your home. The men at the front had let him in, that was a good sign he thought. 

He takes a deep breath, getting out of the car with a grunt, the cold seeming icier in the country to his achy bones. He steadies his breathing with the visible air his nervous heaves leaves in puffs as he walks up to your large wooden and wrought iron door. 

He hears the door unlock before he gets to it, he sees Claire's pale and severe face meet his with clear hesitation. 

"Alfie?" she says with clear confusion as her eyes narrow.

"'Ello Claire." he says with a heavy breath. 

"What are you doing here?" she says, her tone giving him a warning. He felt more nervous than he had about how welcome he would be here. 

"May I come in? It's fucking freezing out here." he says with a scrunch of his nose.

She looks him over, and nods, holding the door open for him and shutting it after. She stares him down, mouth in a straight line as she says nothing.

"Is Genevieve home?" he asks with a hopeful quirk of his brow. 

"No." she says indifferently. 

"Ah. Would you be so kind as to tell me where she's gone?"

"Out." she says flatly, arms still crossed over her chest and tone steady.

"And where might out be?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"Because I need to talk to her."

"Why?"

He pauses for a moment, trying to figure out how to approach this.

"Why now? Why at all? And you can't call like a normal person?" her head moves with attitude.

"I felt suddenly compelled to speak with her so I left and came straight here." he says defensively, brow furrowed with more sadness than anger.

"From where?"

"What with the fuckin' questions Claire?" he says in a higher pitch voice.

"I think after how you've acted the past months I get to ask however many fucking questions I want Solomons." her tone is harsh, her eyes narrowing at him. 

He knows she's right. He was getting too excitable. "I left from work."

"So it's work you need to speak to her about?"

"No."

"Then what?"

"I'd...I'd rather say it to her." 

"I think you can say it to me because I want to know what mess you'll be leaving me with to have to fucking clean up again."

"I didn't mean-"

"I don't know what you meant to do Alfie. But you've not been here. I have. I've had to deal with how much you hurt her. You do know you devastated her when you left right?"

"I..." he wants to defend himself but there's no point. "Yes." he admits, his shoulders slumping. 

"Then why the fuck would I tell you where she is? So you can go and hurt her some more?" her voice is fierce and protective over you. "She builds up the courage to put herself back to together, and face you at that meeting and what do you do? You accuse of her being used by someone, you don't apologize and you don't mention the evil you've done?" her arms are out at her sides in anger. "She's very mad at you over that, I'll have you know. And rightfully so! What man acts like that to someone he cares about?" she leans towards him, and he flinches as the rage beams out of her eyes at him and he knew he deserved every bit of it. 

"I don't want to hurt her anymore, that's why I'm here. I need to talk to her."

"So you're just going to swoop in out of nowhere and confess your undying love and devotion? Just like that?"

He stutters and his face shows his uncertainty to her forwardness and grand accusations. 

"You have no idea the damage you'd done to her do you? You're so fucking thick you have no comprehension of the amount of work she's had to do to get over you leaving. I can't even say it helped her get over you though, because she's not."

"She's not?" his eyes light up with hope and her hard exterior falters only slightly. 

"No." she shakes her head and sighs. "She's not." she puts her hands on her hips. "She's well miffed but the poor thing still cares about you despite my opinion on the matter. To say you burst the little love bubble you two had been floating about in would be an understatement."

"Then I must speak with her." 

"She's very delicate Alfie...and I swear to God if you hurt her again I'll kill you myself." she almost growls.

"And I'd let you. Because I fuckin' deserve it, yeah? I know that. I've spent the last months hatin' myself because I knew what I was doin' and I thought I was savin' her by separating myself because I didn't think I was worthy of her."

He sees the thought move around behind her eyes, considering if she believes him or not. "That's why you stopped sleeping with her?"

"Yes! I had this, in hindsight, ridiculous rule of not being with Jewish women. But she turned out to be exactly fuckin' that, yeah? So I ran scared because of my own principles. I see now I was wrong. I can't..." he pauses and takes a deep breath. "I can't believe I'm telling you this..." he rubs the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes for a moment. "I can't be without her Claire. I fuckin' tried, right?" 

He can tell his words were what she needed to hear. 

"So please... tell me where she is?" his eyes are wide and honest and she's touched by his transparency.

"What are you going to do, huh? You going to propose? Tell her you love her and always have and always will?" she rolled her eyes and lets out a frustrated sigh.

"Well I..." he lets out a stutter of frustration.

"Well dont." she says with a less angry voice. "You'd built her up to believe in such romance in real life but after you left she felt so stupid and lost that if you came at her with that, I love you, marry me, heavy shite you'd overwhelm her." she sighs and frowns. 

"I wasn't goinna start with that...no..." he gives a grin and small huff of a laugh. 

She cracks a smile. "Just...be gentle. You need to build her back up. Be sweet, be kind, be easy with her. You can't handle a woman like Genevieve roughly. You can't whip her back and forth between heavy emotions and expect her to react in your favor. You can't ignore her for months, then tell her she's acting daft and then tell her you want to be with her." she says with raised brows, taking a step towards him, a finger pointing aggressively at him. "And don't you dare fucking hurt her again!" she barks at him and he knows she means it. "You come back into her life and you fucking stay. You got that? I'll be damned if I'm dealing with a heartbroken Gen again."

"That's the plan. I really do mean that. I shouldn't have left. I plan on starting with an apology."

"That's a good place to start."

"You said she was....heartbroken. She really was?" his voice is softer and full of concern.

Claire purses her lips and glares without true anger behind her eyes. "I had been told you were a smart man Solomons." 

He huffs out a laugh at the statement. He felt such the contrary. 

"You really think she took care of you and slept in your bed without the thought of sex because she thought you were just friends?" she tilts her head at him, her tone obvious. "Genevieve isn't the best with expressing romantic feelings. Perhaps because she hasn't had them to the extent she does for you before."

He feels elated and guilty but hopeful and he holds it close. "So... will you tell me where she's at?" his mouth hangs open, eyes resembling a puppy's. 

She lets out a heavy sigh, looking him up and down as if she's still considering it. "Okay. Fine" she says with a small smile.  
\----------

With a newfound sense of self and hope, something it seemed like he'd not felt in years now, he heads back towards town. You could be at two possible places he'd been told. You had an appearance to speak at a gala for an art school and you planned to stop by a fundraising event for one of the charities you'd been working with. You'd been so busy since he left but Claire said doing the new work had seemed to be the only that that made you happy anymore but he was looking forward to changing that. 

He tries the art school first, as your appearance had a time frame. He tries to not looked rushed and wild-eyed like he feels, using his broad shoulders and intimidating silhouette to make his way through the crowds. Suddenly every dark-haired woman would be you, his heart thumped away at every glance of them, the possibility of his eyes meeting yours with every turn of their heads.  
\-----  
You felt an odd rumbling of nerves within you before you were scheduled to speak. You didn't mind talking to groups of people, getting paid to show up and talk about something you loved was an absolute dream. Your fingers twisted the pendant around your neck, rubbing the Star of David had become a worry stone to you of sorts. It helped you center, remember who you were and how you were doing these things to become the person you wanted to be. But tonight, looking in the mirror of the small room set aside for speakers it was reminding you of Alfie. He would've been such a good mind to have gone over your speech with, he had been so good with words.

That was up until he stopped speaking them to you. You could'nt shake how he'd looked at you, spoken so positively about you to a room full of people, putting himself out there as a full supporter of you. You would've loved it if he could've been with you tonight. You could have invited him but... you didn't know where you stood honestly. His eyes seemed to admit he'd wanted to talk to you all those long, lonely nights. But why he hadn't still confused you. Your face flushes hot with his insinuation that you were letting a man get the better of you and use you. That still made you angry whenever you'd think about it. You longed for the days when all his words had been sweet, when he'd told you you could do anything and you start to feel foolish that you'd ever truly believed him. Perhaps the man you'd been duped by had been him. 

"Miss Durand. You're up next." the sharp voice of the curator of the museum the event was being held in breaks you out of your distracting thoughts. You gather yourself and fluff your hair and dress, adjust your chest, center your necklace and move chin high out of the door.  
\---

"She finished speaking about half an hour ago." a woman with a name tag tells him when he inquires about you. "Lovely speech. Lovely woman as well, a transcription of her speech will be available in the next week to come with the newsletter. Shame you missed her, she's a very passionate speaker." she says with a polite smile. 

"It is. Is she still here? Or have you seen her?" 

"I have not seen her but she did head back into the museum after her speech."

"Ah. Thank you, luv." he says with a nod and a determined face as he heads into the wandering halls of the museum.  
\----  
The crowd was mostly in the front of the museum where the food and the speakers were so you were left alone thankfully, moving around the impressionist's halls. You let out heavy sighs, your arms crossed as you let the sadness that resides in you show on your face and you're alone in a room of Monet's. You stand in front of the massive paintings of water and flowers and sky. You hope you could paint things to make people feel things in such a way one day, draw this melancholy and a strange calm from people like the beautiful blurred but poignant paintings did for you. You wonder if one day maybe you could have a room full of your paintings on display. Your own little self-indulgent gallery of the things you'd created. They were a lot darker than the Monet subjects but that didn't mean no one could relate to them. But you were very protective over your paintings, maybe one day when you didn't feel so fragile you'd look into it.

You look to your watch, seeing as you'd been standing and daydreaming about a soft and pastel colored world where things didn't hurt so much for too long.  
\------  
"Where would you go?" he mutters to himself, looking at the directional signs. "French? French. Yeah." he nods and heads toward to direction of the French Impressionists exhibit.  
\----  
You stand in the lobby, being thanked and praised for a few moments as you try to get out of the building. You have your cheeks and hands kissed, murmuring thank you's and absolutely to requests to do it again or speak at other locations. 

A tall black wide-brimmed hat catches your attention in the crowd, your breath catching and ignoring the doting around you as your eyes grow large, an ice cold tingle down your spine at the thought of him. You stand still, ignoring the words being spoken to you but as the owner of the hat turns you see it's not Alfie. The tingle remains despite seeing it wasn't his usual style of hat.  
\-------  
He stands in the empty room of impressionists paintings, he mutters to himself, disgruntled and his face contorting in thought. "Genny...if you aren't in France... where the fuck are you, luv?" he whispers out loud to the large painting of a lily pond. He takes out his pocket watch, seeing he'd been wandering for too long, the night growing too old. Perhaps you'd moved on already. This is where you'd be if you were here. He felt it like the intuition you had, he knew he was close. He returns the watch to his pocket and carries on.  
\-----  
You stand outside, your fur coat shielding you from the cold as you wait for your car. You pull the collar up to hide your face, hoping to be able to make a clean getaway. As you see your car pulling up you get a strange little feeling in your stomach. Like butterflies. You turn back to look behind you, you felt like someone was watching you, your eyes scanning the far away heads of people as they move in the yellow light of the lobby. 

"Miss." Joseph says, pulling open your car door. 

"Thank you." you say softly, a half smile and a nod as you get into your car. You keep your eyes on the doorways until the people are too small to recognize. It wouldn't surprise you that you're feeling strange. Speaking in public, all the attention and the strange ending with the meeting with Alfie, you had a lot swimming around your head. With most odd feelings you get from time to time, it could be nothing, or it could be absolutely everything.  
\-------  
You arrive at the fundraiser and your mood lightens. You feel more comfortable at the Jewish events, people there aren't as clingy and full of an obnoxious and disingenuous amount of praise and you prefer it that way. 

You make your way around the room full of things for the silent auction. You decide to place a few bets, a painted vase, a large decorative mezuzah, and a large fur blanket. You sign your name with a sigh to the list for the blanket, your sad little heartbroken self bubbles up from the back of your mind. You wouldn't have to have more blankets if Alfie was still around. You remember the last night you'd spent in bed with him, your face resting on his chest and falling asleep to his heartbeat. You groan out loud, looking around at the other items in the room, you wish there was a listing for a large, handsome Jewish bloke to put a bet on. 

In a funny way, you get your wish, but you should've been more specific because this man gave off an annoying air of arrogance as soon as his strong cologne hit your nostrils.

"Perhaps you should have put up a date with you for auction. They would've certainly hit their goal." he says with a trying too hard to be charming smile.

You look up at him, rapidly blinking and making split-second judgments. This was a hard no, pass. You say nothing and hope he either realizes you're not interested or see how inappropriate the statement had been.

"You're Genevie Durand, yes?" he asks with a bow of his head. You look him up and down, giving him nothing but an indifferent stare. "I'm Abe." he holds out his hand, you show your polite tolerance and let him kiss your hand. 

"I am Genevieve yes."

"You were scheduled to speak at the museum downtown tonight were you not?"

"I was."

"I saw you in the paper for your award. Beautiful work." he says with a shake of his head.

Thanks. It was the guy I was fucking at the time is what you'd like to say in response. 

"I sent you a letter of congratulations for your achievement." he says as if it meant something to you. 

"I received so many letters after that article was published, I wouldn't be able to recall." you say with pursed lips. The downside to having to communicate with men outside of your life of crime was you couldn't really call them a cunt and tell them to fuck off. 

"Ah. No surprise at all. A woman of your achievements being on the market in a rare gem indeed." he thought he was flattering. On the market? Like a fucking ham or a goose? How this man was single was such a mystery. "I did not see your education listed in the article and by word of mouth I could not find any information about you, where was it you went to school?" he inquires.

"The University of London and then Oxford." you say matter of factly, looking behind him in the crowd. 

"Impressive for a woman in this age."

"And you?" you ask with false interest.

"Cambridge, madam." The one school to still let women in, wonderful.  
"Oxford didn't let many women in, it must be a testament to your great mind that they let you."

That they let you, like education shouldn't be something available to any who wanted it. "Yes, that's why I helped the scholarship programs in London. So those who want to go, can."

"It's a lovely idea. A well-trained mind is such a highly sought after trait in a spouse." 

Woah, okay there lad, slow it down, you don't know me. "I find emotional intelligence to be of higher importance." you say back with an unimpressed tone. 

"Emotional intelligence?"

"Yes. Being able to understand and empathize. Manners, read social cues, expressing your emotions clearly." you say with your back still straight, and eyes only ghosting over his in a clear show of 

"Ah. It's been my experience that most women have found greater comfort in knowing their spouse's achievements are documented and can give them secure lives with their pursuits of knowledge."

"Well..." you sigh. "I'm not every woman you've met am I?" you say with a shrug, a pat to his shoulder and you walk away. You'd played nice long enough, you missed pulling knives out on people.

You find a group of single girls, you infiltrate and they ask much more interesting questions, you sip wine and chat and enjoy yourself separately from the rouge stalking man that tries to catch your attention and pull you from the group. 

You turn another away, stating you found the conversation plenty stimulating enough where you were currently when one of them starts to speak again. "I heard Alfie Solomons is here tonight." a dark-haired girl whispers with a wrinkled nose as she giggles into her wine glass. "He never comes to these things." she shakes her head.

Oh fuck. You try to hide the flush in your face as you take another drink. 

"Isn't he on the board with you for the blindness charity?" a blue-eyed girl inquires.

"He is." you nod too fast to be keeping your cool.

"What's he like? I've heard so many stories about him." she says with a chuckle.

"Oh he's... you know." you shrug. "Rather polite for the line of work he's in." you spit out quickly with a smile.

"I wonder what it'd be like to be with a gangster. I bet he has so much money." she rolls her eyes in pleasure at the thought. 

"Yes, but what he does isn't exactly... Kosher?" one giggles.

"But have you seen the jewelry on the man? Can you imagine what he'd buy his wife?" she adds with raised brows.

You instinctively reach up to hold the pendant he'd bought you between your fingers. "Have any of you seen him here tonight? Or is it just rumor?" you ask. 

"I saw him talking to the head of the board earlier." she says dismissively. 

"Never kissed a man with a beard before. He looks so unkempt but it sort've adds to the dangerous bit doesn't it?" one laughs and rubs her face.

"Excuse me, ladies." you say politely with a nod and they continue, an outbreak of giggles as you walk back into the crowd. Was him being near what that funny little flock of butterflies in your belly had been trying to tell you? Would you even have that sort of connection with him anymore?  
\-----------------  
He enters the building and the murmurs start immediately. As soon as he's spotted he's greeted with loud and enthusiastic welcomes from old rich men who love his money. He never attends these sorts of things, just donates money to various causes. They've never seemed to mind his lack of social appearances, as long as his money kept coming in no one really bothered him or asked much about the rest of his life or how he came into his money. He's polite but short with the varying degrees of welcome as they keep pulling him and his attention away from his purpose for being here tonight. 

He sees a group of younger girls around a painting, he figures women, artists, perhaps they'd know if you were here. 

"Good evening, pardon me for intruding," he says and clears his throat as they all turn casually and disinterested until they lay eyes on him and realize who he is. "Might I bother any of you to ask if you've seen Miss Genevieve Durand here tonight?" he says gruffly, ignoring the up and down they were giving him.

"I've heard she's here." one nods. "I'd love to talk to her, I haven't seen her myself."

"She did this painting, you know." the tallest says, motioning with her glass of wine to the painting they were surrounding. "She's so refreshing, don't you think?" she asks with a tilt of her head. He recognized the scene, it was the view from your studio window. A landscape in unnatural colors, blurry as if it was looked at through a veil of tears.

"Are you a fan of hers?" one asks, a smirk on her face. 

"I am a fan of hers, yes." he states without hesitation and they all grin.

"Oh." they say with knowing smiles. 

"Have you seen her?"

"No but another painting of hers is up for auction if you're interested." she shrugs. 

"Thank you very much, girls." he says with a polite nod and tight smile as he heads off into the room with all the items. 

He stalks around, eyes to the papers as he sees your name listed and he lets out a sigh of relief. Alright, at least he was on the right track.  
\-------  
You make the mistake of asking a grouping of older women if they've seen him. They had not, but they certainly seemed interested in you meeting their sons after they found out who you were. You expertly decline and say you're preoccupied at the moment and apologize and leave. 

Your eyes continuously scan the crowds as you chew away at some hors-d'oeuvres by the buffet table. You stand with your hip jutted out, chewing your thumbnail in thought as a young girl approaches you.

"You're Geneveive Durand, yes?" she asks sheepishly and politely.

"Yes, love, I am." you say sweetly. 

"I'm a big fan of your work, Miss." she says with a big smile.

"Oh thank you so very much." you say with a nod.

"I would love to ask you a hundred annoying questions but I'm afraid someone has been looking for you." she says with a coy smile.

"Excuse you?" you ask with confusion. 

"Alfie Solomons," she says with a nod. "My friends and I were standing around one of your paintings and he asked us if we'd seen you. He seemed distracted so I thought I might do you both a favor and let you know."

"Thank you, sweetheart. I've been looking for him as well." you say with a sigh of relief. "Do you know where he's done."

"I'm afraid I don't but it wasn't that long ago that he asked."

"What's your name?" you ask, putting your hand on her arm.

"It's uh..." she's caught off guard by the attention. "Sarah Weizman, Miss." she says with wide eyes. 

"You get in contact with my girl Claire, and I would love to answer all those questions of yours. Just call me up and tell her your name." you say with a charming smile that she returns in full. "You've helped me out Sarah, I owe you." you say with a smirk as you walk away.  
\-----  
You both stand tall, eyes searching, hearing that the other was looking for the other from people as you move through crowds in hallways, ballrooms, upstairs and down. You're covered in a thin veil of sweat as you keep circling, missing each other by paces and you both grow weary the longer it goes on. 

"He must've gone." you whisper as you stand at the top of the stairs with a worried look on your face. You've been looking for over an hour, easily and you'd worn yourself out. 

"Where are you Genny for fuck's sake. I know you're here." he grumbles to himself, opening up doors upstairs to offices. 

You jog outside, pushing open the door and the icy air hitting the sweat on your skin and making you shiver. You trot down the stairs to the street, eyes searching every second. You stand between street lights and have a smoke. Something you didn't do often, but your stress level for the occasion seems to warrant it.

"Are you ready to go Miss?" Josephs' voice surprises you and you jump at the sound. He lets out a chuckle. "Didn't mean to frigthen you." he smiles.

"I'm just a bit on edge, sorry Joseph. Alfie is here and I've heard whispers he's looking for me and I can't find him bloody anywhere." you say with a whine. 

"Ah. Are we still friendly with Mr. Solomons?" he asks.

"I suppose we are." you say with a shrug.

He takes his pocket watch out and looks at it. "It is awfully late, Miss. He was never one to stay out at these sorts of things long. Perhaps he's retired for the evening?" he says supportively with a shrug. "Maybe he's left a message at home?" he suggests

You let out a cloud of smoke with a groan. Maybe he was right. You'd spent over an hour just looking for him and you'd been here almost three. Alfie hated these sorts of things, he wouldn't stay unless he had to and you weren't sure what he wanted you for or how important it was. Joseph had a point, there would probably be a message if he needed you. You feel a sinking in your gut. Why were you so damned excited to see him anyway? You couldn't help it though. You had it bad for the man and as much as you hated to admit it you knew it to be true. It had grown to be a simple fact and less a source of pain and anguish that it had been. It was just something you lived with, like a poorly placed mole one might not want. Couldn't do anything about it, so just live with it and carry on. A mild annoyance that would come to the front of your mind when you'd let it.

"You've got a very early morning tomorrow as well. Best not forget that." he says in a fatherly tone. 

"You're right. I'll be up before the sun tomorrow." you roll your eyes, stomping out your cigarette and heading towards the car. "Won't be worth a damn to anyone if I haven't slept." you frown. You worry the whole ride home, trying not to bite your nails and you pick at the hem on your coat instead. 

When you get home Claire is already asleep along with the rest of the house and you quickly follow suit. You had a full day of traveling tomorrow and lots to look forward to besides him.  
\----  
He's panting and red in the face as he pushes through the large doors to the outside. His feet carry him heavy and defeated down the large stone steps into the dark and cold night. 

"No luck?" Ishmael asks, propped against the side of the car.

"Never any fuckin' luck." he grumbles as he slams the car door behind him. 

"Might I suggest we go to her home again in the early morning? Not give her a chance to disappear on you?"

"Ya read my fuckin' mind, mate." he says with an annoyed look on his face but a glimmer of hope in his eyes. 

He does precisely that. He's up before the sun, giving himself a good scrubbing and putting on the oil you'd given him for his face and beard that he'd secretly taken with him when he'd gone. It'd reminded him far too much of you to use the past weeks but now with reconciliation in sight he could use it and be reminded of you without the pain. 

The maid even commented on how he seemed to be much perkier this morning and he agreed. Taking only tea and a biscuit and heading out on his way. 

He's primed to knock on the door and Claire answers. "Oh hello Alfie." she yawns, robe pulled to. 

"I wanted to come early to speak with her before she had a chance to run. I couldn't catch her last night." he says, starting to take off his coat.

"Well I have a bit of bad news." she says with a frown.

"Oh fuck's sake, what now." his shoulders slump and his face looks exhausted. 

"She's not here." she says flatly.

"She... not come home or?" he shrugs.

"She left before dawn. Told me she was off to France." she says with a flopping of her arms.

"France?" he responds with high brows.

"Wouldn't tell me why. Had her trunks and she was off as soon as she told me." she shakes her head.

"You're fucking kidding."

"I wish I was." she says rubbing her face. 

"When'd she leave? You know which boat she's taking?" he asks, already moving towards to door. She's actually touched by his persistence.

"I don't. I wish I could be more helpful."

"Eh." he grunts and shrugs. "You tried." he huffs out as he's out the door already.

"Alfie! ALFIE!" he hears before he gets back in his car. Aggie is running as fast as she can towards him.

"What is it luv?" he asks, eyes wide.

"She's gone to Paris." she pants out.

"Calm down there Agatha, now." he says with a smile, hands on her shoulders.

"She's going for a wedding. Claire absolutely hates the girl so she didn't tell her where she was going." she huffs and catches her breath. "I don't know which boat she's taking or when it departs but I'll be damned if I'm going to not tell you something to help you find her. It's been hellish at times without you here." she says with wide eyes. "She misses you so much." she says with sad eyes. 

"And I've missed her more." he says with a charming smile that makes her heart race.

"Are you finally going to make this old woman's dreams come true?" she says with a chuckle.

"If she'll let me yes." he grins. She surprisingly hugs him and he lets out a loud laugh. "Oh Agatha, ya nutter." he booms as he hugs her back. 

"I've been waiting for thirty years for this, call me what you want!" she laughs, pulling away and wiping a tear from her eye. "GO! Go on and make the two of us the happiest women in Britain today!" she exclaims and pushes him in the car.

"Yes ma'am." he says with a grin, shutting the door and watching her clutch her chest with relief as he drives off to the docks.  
\-----  
He uses his name and throws money around haphazardly to get through the lines and get information on the boats departing. There is one to France and he buys a ticket and prays for the first time since before the war that he can get there in time.  
\------  
You're leaning on the railing, looking at the happy people waving goodbye next to you. You smile at the beaming faces, the lovely words being shouted back and forth between families and lovers as the boat breaks away from land. You sigh and smile lazily, happy to be on your way to Paris.

You see a large dark figure parting the crowd almost violently. Your eyes focus and then they go wide. You'd recognize that shoulder to hat ratio anywhere. He pushes through the crowd, all elbows and shoulders as he gives no mind to those he moves to get the man at the gate. Your mouth hangs open, seeing him pointing and shouting at the man at the boat and shaking tickets in his face. You can tell the man is helpless in the situation but you know you can save him the trouble.

"ALFIE!" you scream as loudly as you can. You get strange looks from the people around you but there's no one else in your mind or your eyes at this moment. His eyes go wild and his head darts around, looking for the source of your voice. You wave your hands and shout again. 

He finds you on the upper deck, smile bright and absolutely beaming at him and he melts. "GENNY I-" he shakes his head holding the tickets. "I WAS TOO LATE! I'M SORRY!" he screams back, his voice carrying easier than yours.

"IT'S OKAY!" you nod animatedly. "I'LL PHONE YOU FROM PARIS!" you scream back, blowing him a kiss in your excitement, being entirely charmed by the apologetic look on his face and waving with the same beautiful smile that captivated him. You had asked him to show you action, and this was certainly that.

He hadn't expected the kiss but he'll be damned if he's not going to leave you with a fond memory in place to start killing off all the bad he'd left you with. He catches it and puts it to his lips and he sees you lean over the railing and laughing loudly at him. He blows you one back and you catch it with both hands and hold it to your chest with a broad smile. Still so sweet and kind even after what he'd done to you. He might not think he deserves it, but he'll be damned if he's not going to take advantage of what must be the biggest celestial mistake that he happened to be the benefactor of. You stand and sigh and smile at each other long after you're out of each other's sight. It was as if the connection between the two of you was back and it was stretching across the water, soon to be connected again through telephone wires.  
\-----  
You take the phone out onto the balcony of your apartment in Paris. You're so nervous your hands shake as you pick up and ask for Alfie Solomons, London. Your heart races as you wait for a response. 

He hadn't moved from beside the phone in the lounge since he'd got back. He had no intentions of missing your call. If he had to do much as get up to go to the loo he had someone there waiting. Luckily for him, the calls comes while he's sat by the fire. 

He almost drops the phone in his anticipation, Cyril giving him a judgemental look from his spot in front of the fire. "'Ello?" his deep voice travels through the receiver and hits your ears and you close your eyes and smile.

"Hello Alfie." you practically coo, voice breathy and sweet. 

You hear a heavy exhale, "Genevieve, luv." he says, pausing at the sound of your voice again. "Did you make it to Paris alright?" he asks, rising from his seat.

"I did. Thanks for asking." he can hear the smile in your voice. "Sorry you had to waste money on that ticket." you let out a chuckle.

"Nothing's ever a waste if I get to see you." he says smoothly and you blush, your heart flutters and your brain wants to side it's excitement but it was hard not to get carried away. 

"I stayed at the fundraiser and tried to find you, you know."

"Ah. Yes." he nods, pulling back the curtain and looking out his window. "Seems it wasn't in the cards for us to meet that night, was it."

"Seems that way. But as you know I'm a fan of the dramatic and it doesn't get much more dramatic than you taking out a crowd of pedestrians to find me as my ship departed." you let out a giggle, your thumb in your mouth as you look up at the sky. You'd asked him for actions and he had certainly given them to you. 

"You must've rubbed off on me, luv." he laughs. "Aggie told me you were there for a wedding. What hotel you stayin' at?"

"I am and I'm actually at my apartment." you say looking out over the street.

"You've got an apartment in Paris, do ya?" he smirks, of course you did.

"I do. It's lovely. You should come with me and see it sometime." you sigh out before you even realize what you're saying.

"I'd love nothing more." he returns the soft tone. "You have one of those fancy ones I bet. Balcony and big tall windows?" 

"Good to see you still know me." you hugg out a laugh. "I'm out on the balcony now. It's cold but it's lovely out tonight." you say quietly. 

"I'd love to be there with you Gen." his voice also dropping to a hushed whisper. "You lookin' at the moon, pet?" he asks.

"I am." your eyes stare up at her in her stark and bright majesty.

"So am I. Would you be so kind as to do me a favor?" 

"Of course. What is it?"

"Look up at her for me, would you? We'll pretend we're both there while we're lookin' at the same moon." 

You hold the railing and your knees knock together. And you thought romance was dead. "I am. You're here, making fun of the drivers down below."

"You'd be right, the French can't bloody drive." he laughs and you do as well.

You both let out heavy sighs. "It'd be warmer if you were here. But I can pretend." you say softly.

"Genevieve...." you hear his breath catch. "I've missed you so much."

Your eyes well up with tears and you swallow hard. Happy tears that felt like a baptism for you, an end to your sadness. "I've missed you too." you sniffle and feel the tears sting with cold as they fall down your round smiling face. "Alfie love." you lilt out.

You saying his name made his heart swell to the point of bursting. "Yes, darling?" he asks, eyes watery and staring up at the same moon you were.

"Why..." he hears you exhale. "Why did it take you so long to come to me?" he can hear the hurt in your voice, and he shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath. 

"I'm afraid there is no good reason," he says with a huff of a laugh, you can tell he's being honest but you still find it mildly confusing. "And no reason at all now," he adds, scratching his chin. "I'll be having some people over for Shabbat. I'd love if you could come. I would like to explain myself to you if you'll give me the chance." his voice is so soft it's like you can feel it like velvet across your cheeks as it hits your ears and sends warm tingles down your body.

"I'd love to. Is it formal or casual?"

"You can wear anything you want. It's not formal, but I know that never stops you from looking a vision, does it?" he hears a giggle from you. "I just want you here with me, sweetheart."

"Then that's exactly where I'll be." he can feel the warm smile through the phone, his chest aching with happiness, having a reason to keep beating again. "I've got to go for now... but I'll see you soon Alfie." you whisper.

"Good night, my sweet." he coos.

"I'll keep looking at the moon until I see you again." he hears a chuckle. "Goodnight." 

The line disconnects. He places it back in the stand and lets out a loud sigh that goes onto turn into a groan as his head falls back against the couch. Cyril becomes curious about the noise and lays his head on Alfie's thigh.

"Look's like you're going to get to met my Genny after all." he says with a smile, the dogs tail thumping against the floor as he scratches his ears with both hands. "You're gonna love her. I know I do." he gives a big smooch to the pup's head before he calls him to follow him to the kitchen to receive a treat for no reason except Alfie wanted him as happy as he was.  
\--  
"Lilly my love, what's wrong?" Altar says, his voice full of concern as his big hands set the small cups on the table. He stomps towards you, his long arms outstretched to hold you close.

"For once... absolutely nothing." you say with a happy choked out sob. 

"Sweetheart, my princess, what is it?" he rubs your back, you feel like a child, wrapping your arms around him, his big beard rough against your face. 

"It was Alfie on the phone." you say with a coy smile.

"Ahhh." he says, pulling you away and putting his hands on your shoulders. 

"And?" he says with a smile.

"He was terribly romantic." you look at him with a dopey smile. "We set a time to meet when I return."

"Ah! The best news!" he cheers, clasping his hands together. "Well then fuck having tea! Let's go celebrate!" he laughs and you return the expression as he drags you by the wrist from the window.


	55. Wild Horses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song for the chapter is Wild Horses by The Rolling Stones.  
> *NSFW*

You laugh as Claire lifts up the skirt of your dress and sprays perfume while you're leaning over, putting in your simple diamond earrings. You swat at her and fluff out your skirt.

"I don't know if that's entirely warranted." you laugh as you shake your head and smack at her. 

"Well I do know and it is." she smirks. She hadn't told you about speaking to Alfie, or what he'd said when he came looking for you. She didn't think it mattered at this point. You two were going to finally be seeing each other and she'd bet all the money she had you wouldn't be coming back home tonight. 

But you were more hesitant than she was. He was sweet and romantic over the phone but that didn't mean he was going to sleep with you necessarily. He'd been those things and not slept with you for quite some time not that long ago. It seems as if she'd forgotten that. You certainly wanted her to be right but you were still feeling too cautious to let yourself be totally pie-eyed and expecting.  
\---  
You stand in front of the tall townhouse. Taking in the dark masonry front. The night is cold, you can see your breath as you take a deep breath, holding up your skirt as you ascend the stairs. You're greeted by a pleasant looking older woman in a maid's uniform when she pulls open the door before you even knock. 

"Hello! Shalom!" she chirps. "Here for the party?" she says with a warm smile.

"I am." you say as she takes your fur coat from you. 

"Everyone's in the lounge, down the hall to the left, Miss." she instructs cheerfully before proceeding up the stairs. 

You swallow hard and steady your breathing. You smooth down your sapphire blue dress. From the waist up and down your long sleeves, it was sheer, your slip of the same color underneath leaving your arms bare and darkening the color to match the deep blue velvet of the long flowing skirt that covered your grey heels. You wore simple diamond earrings and the same Star of David pendant as it matched the dress perfectly,. The neckline of the dress was cut low enough to be flattering and frame the necklace nicely without being too much. You wanted to be tempting, but not entirely obvious. 

Ollie appears from the room you'd been directed towards. Voice carry from the doorway, golden light spilling across the barrier into the hallway across the dark wooden floors and red and tan rug. You can make out Alfie's laugh and your heart flutters at the sound. 

"Hello Genevieve!" he says cheerfully.

"Hello, Ollie. It's lovely to see you," you say with a genuine smile. "How have you been?" you ask, meeting him halfway down the hall. 

"Very busy." he nods with a friendly tone. "Now that you're here I can get back to work and stop having him ask me every ten minutes if you've arrived." he raises his brows and turns to point towards the doorway in question. "He's in the parlor, go get him so he'll get off my back please." he grins and you return the expression. 

"I can do that." you laugh as you walk down the long hall, the home is warm and smells of food and spice. The floors of dark wood carry halfway up the walls, the top portion a red wallpaper. You rather liked it. It was intimate and inviting, composed of rich earth tones and something that felt almost antique and distinctly Alfie. 

You move into the wide doorway, your hand lingering on the frame as your wide eyes take in the room. Your body and your face are posed and poise, your muscle memory remembering how you were taught to enter a room to catch attention without a word. 

He sees you as soon as you round the corner despite the fact that he was mid-conversation with three other people. He'd been waiting impatiently for you to come all night and he finds his heart palpitating at the very sight of you. You wore the necklace he'd given you still, your hair down and soft, a lovely dress that fits you perfectly. You were a vision, just like he'd said. The sight of you stops the conversation, steals the thoughts from his head, the words from his mouth and the breath from his lungs. He nods his head and excuses himself with no hesitation. You see him as soon as he moves, as if you knew where to look already. Your own star-struck eyes that sit above closed lip smiles mirror his own. He cannot wait a moment longer. 

He kisses your hand, not releasing it, but holding his other over it. The push of his soft lips against your skin started the invisible burn he induces as you feel a tingle move up your spine at the sight of him so close. 

"Good Evening Genevieve." he says softly, leaning in close and your eyes involuntarily bat up at him. 

"It is." you say in response, an almost cheeky smile in acknowledgment you'd taken his usual retort. 

"May I speak with you in my study?" he asks, standing up straight again, his hand already motioning out of the room.

"Of course." you say quietly. Neither of you speak as his hand rests on your lower back as he walks you down the hall. 

You move into the room, smelling of dust and old books with shelves mostly full, a large desk buried in papers, a globe, and a couch all resting comfortably in the light of a dying fire. You stand and look around, taking it all in. You hear the door click shut behind you, and in seconds you feel his hands on your arms, turning you towards him. You're caught entirely off guard as he moves in quickly, a hand moving past your cheek to your hair as he leans down and kisses you. The kiss isn't hard, it isn't soft, it's undemanding and he takes the rest of the world away with it as his lips move against yours. Your hand moves to his forearm instinctually, feeling compelled to touch him as he steals the breath from your lungs with his unexpected show of affection. He pulls away slowly, lips sticking together in protest to parting as your eyes stay shut for a moment, your lips parted as he takes in the sight of you so near once again. 

"Forgive me darling, but I've missed you." he whispers. 

Your eyes flutter open, lips still parted in wonderment and lust. You feel as if your emotions are moving in a hundred separate directions. You want to cry, from happiness and relief, you want to scream from the lingering hurt. But you might only succeed in melting into a puddle and ruining the imported rug.

"You've not slapped me so I'll assume the silence from you the past weeks wasn't acted out because you hate me." he has a hopeful smile on his face, his words just as soft and even more gentle. 

"It was not." you managed to whisper back as you swallow loudly. 

Your voice is sweeter than he could even recall, a warmth washing over him at the sound. 

"I've missed you as well." you add, a few blinks from your eyes bring the movement back to your face as you start to process what's happening.   
He can feel the hesitancy in your voice for such a confession spoken in person. He compulsively kisses you again and you return in full and in earnest. This time your arms wrap around his neck, his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you tightly to him. In the surge of emotion you let out a small moan, and it isn't from a sexual response that his touch ignited, but one from longing answered. A punctuation to a too long run on sentence that the last weeks without him had been. A pained sound that was born from emotional turmoil this time. A groan revealing an equal amount of hurt to you escapes him. This kiss was harsher, but so needful and intense in its execution your knees go weak and you find yourself getting lost completely in it that you hardly register him pulling away from you. 

"There's a party going on out there I have to host." he says with a small smile, his thumbs rub against your jaw gently. 

"I'd almost forgotten." you say with a sweet, dazed smile. He melts at the sight of something entirely warm and inviting in your eyes. Unlike the cold hesitancy, he saw the last time he'd gazed into them. 

"Would you stay after the party is over?" he asks softly as he looks over your beautiful, bewildered face.  
f. W  
"If that's what you want." you nod with a soft blink of your lashes. You were surprised by the request somewhat, as it felt very forward. But what else could it have been after the kiss you just shared?

"Very much so." his smile is almost predatory for a moment before he kisses you tenderly one last time before releasing your face. "Let's get back now, luv. Plenty of people for you to charm for the first time out there tonight." he grins down at you, arm around your shoulders, with something that looked like pride in his eyes.

"You go ahead, I'll fall behind in just a moment." you politely suggest.

"Of course." he says with a subtle bow, slinking out of the room with a bit more of a spring in his step than you had noticed on the way in. 

You rest yourself, hip and hand on the arm of the leather sofa. Your eyes wide, your shoulders slump as you gulp noisily, and stare at the door. Your thighs tremble, your knees wanting to knock as soon as you felt the heat of his skin pressed against yours. You believed yourself to be more level minded than the last time you saw him. But you still wanted to remain in this closed, dim study until everyone else went as he'd left you a mess. You fight to compose yourself. With many deep breaths and a wipe of your fingers under your eyes to fix them from stray tears, you fluff your hair and you're back in form to charm as he suggests.   
\-----------------  
You try not to look at him throughout the night. But being the host, the loud, boisterous and charming man he was, it was hard not to. As he stands to speak to the entire table, you look down at your hands, a small subtle smile on your lips, just from getting to hear him speak again. His inflections and pops and smacks all unique to his passionate delivery of the stories he told. 

You've never known Alfie to be heavy-handed without purpose. But as you look up to face your racing hearts cause you find him already watching you. You stop hearing what he says. The words are just the sound of your favorite song playing in another room. You sigh noiselessly, your shoulders rising and falling slowly, your lashes fluttering as his eyes didn't look away from yours. How long had he been watching you? Had anyone else noticed how you were gazing at each other? Did he care if anyone noticed? It didn't seem so as he connected to you almost telepathically with his eyes and smiles, words spoken to a room full of people and feeling like they're only meant for you. You feel the flush bloom across your face as you glance away bashfully, biting your lower lip and reaching for your glass of wine, not returning your eyes to him. 

You're in the dining room when most everyone had migrated to the lounge long ago, people slowly file out while you pick away at a platter of your favorite round sweets. The gesture of them existing here tonight not lost on you. You're absent-mindedly on your third as Ollie walks into the room and his eyes light up when he sees you. 

"I've been looking for you Genevieve." he says with a kind nod.

"What's that?" you ask, tilting your head and standing back up straight.

"Mr. Solomons will be concluding the party shortly and he thought you might want to wait somewhere where it wouldn't be obvious that you were staying afterward. He wanted to be considerate to your privacy." he quietly explains, his tall, slender frame leaning towards yours. 

"At least he still has manners." you mutter to yourself, your hands going to your skirt. "Where does he want me to wait?"   
\---------  
You wait in his bedroom. Your eyes narrowed at the suggestion to have you idle in his personal chambers for him after a party. Too many good memories in unfamiliar bedrooms shared between the two of you to not have them linger in your thoughts. You had really tried to not expect anything from tonight but he kept giving you reasons to change your mind. You didn't feel nervous as you heard heavy steps coming up the stairs. You rest your shoulder against a banister of the four-poster bed. 

He enters with purpose, his eyes searching for you immediately. You give him a soft smile, and he moves towards you. 

"Having me wait in your bedroom?" you ask, an implied smirk on your lips. "I'm assuming you didn't want me to stay for business." a corner of your mouth drawn back in a comedic tone of a sarcastic response. 

His shoulders seem to relax after he throws his jacket onto the back of an armchair. He moves, his arms big and heavy off of broad shoulders, you look him over as he stands without saying anything for a moment, only staring at you. Your cool facade fades under his gaze, he knows this and comes closer. "I owe you an apology." he finally says, his voice gruff, brow low as he holds your hands and you're surprised at his actions. 

"I was kidding about waiting in here, Alfie." you say with a gracious smile, and he sighs at the sound of you saying his name, closing his eyes as your brow creases in consideration of what the motive was behind his expression. 

"Say it again." he whispers, his eyes still closed. 

"What? That I was joking? I just thought it a bit unexpected is all I-"

"No, Genevieve," he sighs, your name sounding so silken coming out of his mouth. He opens his eyes, squeezing your hands, clasped together between the two of you. "My name." Your lashes flutter suddenly, your wide-eyed shock transparent across your face. Your breath catches slightly. 

"Alfie?" your voice is small and soft. He hums at the sound, eyes closing again. He takes a deep breath, his shoulders rising and falling, he rolls his head, his face back to meeting yours. He matches your eyes, his hands moving to around your waist as your jolt of surprise isn't lost on him as he holds you against his chest. "Alfie?" you ask it more insistently and he hums again. Leaning in to press his lips to yours. "Alfie." you say again in a different tone, demanding an explanation for his behavior. 

"I missed you," he whispers, your knees knocking together as you gulp. "And I'm sorry." he says, glancing at your lips. "I should've called...visited, wrote, hell, anythin'." he plants a kiss to your cheek, your eyes shut at the way the words make the knots in your stomach loosen. Ones that had sat there for weeks, some months. "Weren't right of me to leave ya in such a way and with such regrettable behavior beforehand." he plants another kiss, lower on your jaw. Your chest heaves somewhat with his apology, "You deserve better than my childish, insensitive behavior and I want to make amends." he kisses closely to your ear, your heart racing at the feeling of his hot breath fanning across your touch starved skin. He pulls back from you, hands resting innocently at your hips, you rest your hands on his biceps. "I got all caught up in my own made up problems in me head." he says, shaking his and looking down at you regretfully. "I weren't honest with myself or you and even if I don't think I deserve it, you do." his brow furrows. "I know I acted like a fuckin' arse those last months I lived with you and I'm sorry."

You can't help that your mouth drops open at the admittance of his peculiar behavior. He looks across your face in a dazed sort of way. Your eyes, wide, beckon him to explain further.

"Movin' out helped me clear me head." he nods in quick movements. "I see now that I was makin' you feel like a problem. I did. " he lets out a noisy exhale, "When it was me the whole fuckin' time and I'm sorry for that." his voice is in its usual coarse gravel, but softly spoken and most importantly, it was genuine. Your eyes twinkle at the words, your worry turning back into adoration. 

"Alfie..." his name squeaks out from your lips, it's all you could really form in your relief as waves of emotions washing over you. Your hands hold his arms tighter, he looks down at them with a smile and you feel your heart stutter. He takes a deep breath, staring at you once again, like he had months before when thing's hadn't felt so damn complicated.

"I can see now you've never been the problem, darling." his voice is like walking into a cold babbling stream at dawn. The cold of the night still hanging on against the heat of the rising sun, making your skin go tight, jolting your soul into awakeness, making you tremble with stimulation. You watch his hand go back to your cheek, your chest is heavy with anticipation, you wonder if he can feel your heart thumping. "But I believe you to be the solution instead." he whispers, his eyes fluttering and moving so thoughtfully across your face. "You deserve the truth, and I want to give it to you now." he licks his lips to pause to formulate his thoughts. "I pulled away from you because I thought my self not worthy of you." he looks at you with an intent focus in his eyes, a hitch you catch in his breathing. "You confessed to me and I should've taken it for the sign it was, that my thoughts had always been correct in assuming you were a perfect match for me." his voice is low, eyes only backing up what his mouth was proclaiming. "The way I reacted was such a tragedy that I can only apologize from the depths of my heart for my actions that followed. You did not deserve that and I only hope that I can show you my remorse for the error of my ways, for I see them clearly now."

You open your mouth to speak and he shakes his head, eyes watching your mouth tremble shut at his wordless command. You lick your lips habitually from your anticipation he can feel as he senses your body vibrating. 

There could've been bombs dropped outside and you two wouldn't have noticed. Not when you are both so close to possibly getting what you wanted. Your chest is so tight you're having to manually control your breathing as his emotion seeps out of every pore and washes over you in shudder-inducing waves. "In your absence, my heart has grown even fonder of you, Gen," he states, his thumb moving across your skin again in small smooth strokes. "With you gone I was very quickly made brutally aware of how much you had become the most welcome habit and vice in my life. You made me better just by being near me, sweetheart." his voice is commanding but delicate. He speaks articulately, but his breath stutters with emotion. "I know how important your independence and self-reliance are to you, which is why I waited so long to tell you of the growing and now, undeniable feelings that I have for you. I believe the reserve came from fear. Fear of rejection. Yeah. Fear of the sentiment I felt towards you." he nods, his brow furrowing again, his bottom lip hiding under his mustache for a moment. He shakes his head and looks back at you, his eyes as solid as ground again. "But I wanted you here tonight to offer you my truth over my lies. As you've requested of me since we met." he lets out a small huff of a laugh at you, your face stoic and gorgeous, absorbing his words, your eyes not giving any signs of retreat. "I can't recall any fancy way to say it, luv, I find myself losing the ability when ya lookin' at me like 'is." he swallows and you give him an adoring smile that makes his heart thump. "I wanna be with you Genevieve. Only you." he states, his hand firm and hot against your cheek. "I find myself so consumed by my desire for you." he almost groans out the confession, your eyes burning with tears that threatened to fall. "The thought of lettin' you slip away by my own lack of action makes me ill and that's what I'm trying to prevent tonight by asking you to be mine." 

"Yours?" you ask weakly, leaning into his hand as you feel the tension held in its muscles lessen at your attention. 

"Yes, luv." he kisses you gently, testing your reaction. Your flutter your eyes open in a delayed manner after he kisses you. "To be each others. I'd never claim to own you, Genevieve, you must know that. You are no one's but your own and I am only humbly asking that you let me be the only man that stands next to you." there's a pleading tone deep in his voice that makes your heart ache. 

"A team?" you ask, still smiling and sighing in his arms. 

"Partners. Equals." he rushes out as if you still needed convincing. 

You sigh heavily, your fingers gently touching his beard, looking over his face to remember this desperation. The feeling of him laying himself at your feet. Facing a grand reward or punishment boldly assured you that he meant what he said. 

"I was reduced to a lesser woman in your absence," you rasp out, your fingers delicately stroke his hair, his temple and moving down his jaw as you speak. "From the morning you left for weeks I was..." your eyes narrow, still gazing into his. " I suppose I can now admit that I felt less than with you gone." you nod and bite your lip. "This isn't exactly what I expected coming here tonight. Not with the way you left. Not with the lack of contact, both physical and that of communication afterward." your face has a passing sadness at the memory and he hunches over you as if to absorb the emotion so you didn't have to feel it as a burden as if his wide shoulders could ward you from it.

"I know, I'm-" your fingers rest on his lips as he blinks at you. 

"This is the best possible outcome I could imagine from my coming here tonight." his eyes squeeze shut and it's as if you'd stripped him down to his bones when he opens them and looks at you again. "If I had in fact, allowed myself to imagine such a fantastical sort of outcome on those nights alone." Both his hands raise to your face, holding it tightly, his adoration pouring freely from his eyes. You'd never seen the face of Alfie Solomons in such a state. You were transfixed by the masculine beauty that beamed down at you. All that power within him willing to bow to you in humility. "I do know, however," you say, a familiar spark behind your eyes, "... that I have tried to imagine a better-suited partner for myself." you pause for just a moment, relishing in the drama of the heightened emotion of the moment. "And I could think of none. Nor did I want any other." his bottom lip trembles as his eyes shine, that line of slightly angled teeth that you found so damn endearing, showing in the raw vulnerability he was giving you. 

"Gen..." he whispers out, strung out and love drunk his lids weighing heavily down onto his piercing eyes. 

"You've awakened something in me I thought was dead. We are but a man and a woman but I feel so much more than that when I'm with you. I've never felt so intensely drawn to someone as I do you. And I want to be with you as well. As lovers, as a couple... together for all to see." you finally admit with all other veils lifted, nothing left to hide or explain between the two of you. Nothing left to explain with words, anyway. 

He exhales sharply, holding your face like a vice, "You've made me the happiest man in existence tonight, Genevive, for to be yours and for you to be mine is all I've thought of for months. You have awoken a yearning that goes beyond anything I've thought possible in me. I felt a dark void with you gone from my life and I intend to make up my inexcusable behavior to you for as long as you'll have me." his raspy whispers fill your heart with a burning heat before his lips meld against yours. You hear a whimper from him, your hands finding their way over his body as if they'd never left. He whispers out your name between pants of breath you share as you kiss each other recklessly, messy tongues and sloppy lips and nothing but passion driving them across each other's skin. You moan out his name in response, his fingers digging into your back as he cracks your spine he holds you so tightly. 

His kisses travel to your cheeks, damp with stray tears as he clutches at you frantically, his lips kissing down your jaw to your neck, hungry and desperate whines and moans escaping him as he renders your hesitation useless. "Alfie." you moan out and he returns the sound with a low rumbling groan against the rapid pulse of your neck. 

"I would've sold my soul to hear your beautiful voice say my name like that on those darkest nights alone." he coos in your ear and your eyes roll back in your head helplessly.

"I'll call it out like a prayer for you then." you whisper.

"Suited as you're the one who's saved me." he mutters against your skin.

"Show me how you worship then, Alfie. Make me yours." you whisper, eyes shut and head lolling as he moves his hand to the back of your head, holding you up in his strong arms, your knees weak and chest heaving.

His lips travel back yours, "I want nothing more." he moans into your mouth, his hands work deftly to undo the buttons down the back of your dress, his kisses show no signs of distraction as your lips noisily smack in a slow pace under your nuzzling noses. You move to unclasp the buttons on his shirt as you both come undone just as your garments. 

You feel the air hit your back through the silk of your slip. His calloused fingers pull one shoulder of your dress down, his kisses moving down your neck and continuing to the now bare shoulder as he pulls it away slowly. The sheer fabric moves to your elbow, his kisses planted down your upper arms before his fingers move swiftly under the hem to pull it down your chest, more kisses across your collar bones to repeat the slow and sensual pattern down the other side of your body. 

You pull your arms out of the dress and let it drop. His breath falls heavy against the pendant he gave you, his forehead pressed the hollow of your throat. "When I saw you still wore this even after I left I was moved to tears. Your capacity for forgiveness astonishes me, my love."

"I wore it proudly. I could never shun it just as I've never shunned you," you answer in a voice on the verge of tears at the way he touched you so firm but gently, his words spoken as urgently as his caress. "I couldn't bring myself to part from it just as I couldn't bare to part from you."

"You are my perfect jewel," he groans, kissing up your neck to breathe in the smell of your hair. "My paradisical, resplendent French flower." he moves his face along yours, planting kisses wherever his lips may be. "You smell of sunshine and lavender even in the dark of winter." his lips now grazing over yours as he spills words more lovely than any poetry you'd ever heard. "My Persephone bringing the light back to my world for without you there was only darkness." he kisses the corners of your mouth, your eyelids, temples, and nose. 

You keep your eyes closed as he holds you, letting the emotions wash over you, and reveling in them. No longer afraid of how your heart called for him. "I have found such a strength in the weakness only you can make me feel." you look into his eyes, lashes fluttering as his hands push back your hair, fingers pulling through the long waves as you move forward to plant a kiss on his chest. You now mirror the slow actions of his hands as your lips graze his collarbones and remove his shirt. "And you are my tenacious King now my Hades." you purr, his eyes half-lidded and his heavy bottom lip hanging in absolute disbelief for his deepest desires were unfolding before his eyes. "For I've tasted the fruit of your world and can no longer be the same." you kiss around the gold links of his necklaces, your hands undoing the fastenings of his trousers. "My god of gold and hidden wealths. Brutish and diabolical as he's surrounded by darkness few others can comprehend." your breath carries over his skin, lips never leaving him for long as he lets out a guttural sound for the words you exhale against his skin. He'd never felt so fully seduced in such a way with words. Your hand moves down his lower stomach, into his pants as you slowly stroke the growing length of him you find there. His eyes are clenched under a heavy brow and he's never looked more attractive to you. "But you forget I am just as devilish as you are darling." you smile is sinful against one of his nipples as your lips enclose around it and you feel his whole body shudder.

"You are a queen fit for only the most wicked man." he moans, a fire in his eyes as they open, lips crashing into yours as he lifts you from the backs of your thighs. You naturally wrap yourself around him as he carries you to his bed, falling back heavy and with a creak on the new frame beneath you. 

"The most wicked king and you are mine now, Alfie." you coo against his lips as he settles over you. He did feel like a king with you and in that powerful title, he felt invincible under your stare. But he desperately needed to submit to you, and you to him tonight and the rest of the nights hereafter. Your arms are around his back, soft hands roaming over his lean muscles as they worked his hands up your thighs, pushing your slip up over your hips. He breaks the kiss to move down your body, lips following the path of his hands, along your outer thigh, to your inner thigh to the hip bone above the soft satin of your knickers. You feel the pull of his rough hands, pushing the soft fabric up your stomach as his lips keep their journey north. Kisses to your navel, diagonally to your ribs, gown pushed up further bit by bit. He pulls the garment over your head, diving back down between your breasts as he pants in heavy breaths, big hands moving to arch your back to undo your bra, throwing it across the room without a second thought as the moan he releases at the sight of you makes you forget everything else but the intoxicated look on his face. 

"You are absolutely fuckin' bewitching." he moans, mouth latching on the soft mound of your breast as he bites and suckles to the hardening point. You see his eyes roll back behind his lids and yours follow suit as the feel of his mouth on you was something so divine you'd forgotten just how skilled it was. "How is it you're even more captivating than I recall?" he rasps as his mouth moves back up to yours. 

"Because you are a man who cherishes his possessions and I'm among them now. " you reply with a closed-lip smile, your fingertips resting on his face as he wraps his arms around our body. 

"My most precious treasure," he says with a warm smile as you look over one another, taking in the content and blissful faces of each other that the whispered confessions cause. "And mine at long last." he shakes his head, a devastatingly charming grin on his face as your lips curl up, tongue peeking out slightly at him. 

"Let me feel you, mon Fie." you softly request, the heels of your feet pushing down his trousers. "I want you completely bare against me. Every centimeter exposed for me to touch and taste. I want to feel every muscle and scar as you belong to me now." 

"And you shall have it my darling." he whispers, a soft kiss before he rises, moving to sit on the edge of the bed and take every item off. You move to remove your pants, crawling on your knees to behind him as you kiss his shoulders, nails gently raking across his shoulders, down his arms and back, small noisy kisses crossing the span of his shoulders.

He turns partially, you move to kiss the scar on his shoulder the bullet had left, still pink and raised. You drag your tongue across it, drawing a throaty moan from him. You keep your wet lips moving to his neck, burying your face in his bushy beard, smelling the oils still there and you hum contently. More kisses up his jaw, light and sweet to his temples, his eyes flutter shut as you kiss his lids, wanting every bit of him tasted. He'd never had this sort of loving affection and attention before, not even from you. Your hands were soft but sure against his chest, running up the broad expanse and holding the back of his head, kissing the shell of his ear. "Make love to me how you imagined on those nights alone in this bed, Alfie." you whisper, a lustful grunt rumbling in his chest. 

He answers your request, moving fast to take you in his arms, a hard kiss that distracts you as he moves you both up the bed, resting your head on the firm pillows with care. He rests between your legs, and in the light of the fire at his back, now dimming slowly, you see him take in the sight below him. 

You see his heavy cock twitch between your thighs. He watches you intently, studying you like a work of art as you run your hands down your breasts, one continuing to between your legs as you let out a small moan as your finger traces over your clit and the soaking wetness you find between your thighs. With your fingers covered and slick, you raise them back up and place them on his lips. His eyes struggle not to roll back as a deep moan escapes past your fingertips. "You see? You feel how much I missed you?" you ask, your lashes looking long and full as your dark eyes stay focused on his lips as his tongue flicks out against your fingers. You moan quietly as he engulfs your fingers into his mouth and groans. A firm hand around your wrist, eyes closing as he licks the proof off your fingers. You find yourself being unexpectedly intensely aroused as his plush lips suck your fingers. He presses your palm to his mouth, his hand over yours and you feel the warm strength of his tongue against the sensitive skin. 

He takes your wrist, placing your hand around his leaking cock. "Can you feel how much I've missed you?" he whispers against your ear, pushing himself into the grip of your hand. 

"I long to," you whine, pushing him against your lips, covering him and making your bodies melt together without friction. "I want the heat and weight of you. I need every fraction of you upon me and the rest inside of me." you say in a pleading tone as he pulls back his hips. You move your legs to around him, pulling him closer, he moves to his elbows on the bed, your bodies now touching almost undividedly. He moves back to connect you fully, lips moving in a languid pace against each other, heavy breathing and moans not interrupting the push of starving mouths against the other.   
With a hand under your head, the other trailing down your side to rest on your hip to hold you steady your noses bump together as you breathe in each other in for a moment, feeling him move against your swollen bud, heavy exhales at the touch. You use your hand to pull his mouth to yours by the back of his neck, the other placed on his chest, feeling his heart knock against it in its urgency. He moves slowly, so exquisitely slowly to push into you. You hadn't expected to feel so tight again and the smallness his body and his ownership over you make you feel add to the sensation. 

As he sheaths inside you in an unhurried motion, the snug fit stirring heady responses from you both, he leaves his eyes open to watch your face give over to the pleasure. His hand, fingers light against your skin move back up to your face, lips ghosting over yours, face held by his sizeable hand to keep you from moving out of his sight. He examined every twitch of muscle, savoring every sound you made until he was fully inside you. He gives you a few breaths to accommodate him before pouring down a long, low moan into your mouth past a passionate kiss. 

It felt like the first time again with him and perhaps that was suited as it felt different this time with the honesty spoken beforehand. His time spent inside you before was never dull, but with the open vulnerability of baring your feelings to each other, something new to you, it was as if he not only set your skin afire but the heat was searing down to your bones, branding them with his name. Like you could feel him in every muscle as he stretched you and you let him overtake you. And you gave up willingly, enthusiastically to him. You had wanted to be someones and now finding it was he who was reciprocating that notion you wanted to become one in totality with him. You let your body respond how it wants, you let the sounds that need to escape free, you let the tears from the pleasure squeak out the corners of your eyes as he moves in you. 

With every forced exhale you made as he pushed inside you over and over, his hips not having to move violently to receive such a response from you as he had in the past. Your hands gripped at his back as his mouth worked against your strong pulse in your neck. He could feel every moan he drew from you with your chests pressed together with your full lips brushing up against his ear as you felt and heard the same from him. 

He detects his name, moaned out your panting mouth, hearing it with his ears but feeling it in his chest at the way it sounded different now. Not holding his body's reactions back, his hips buck harder into you at the calling of it, it made him weak in the only way he knew that he would welcome. A lower, needful moan that is forced out of you by the seizing muscles of your stomach makes him repeat the motion to compel you into a more fevered state. Your fingers grip into his hair, his head moving against your neck and shoulders, mouth sucking and biting against your soft skin as you feel your approach to climax. He finds the pressure and places your body is calling out for, slow paced but a heavy pound, a slap of wet flesh each time as he grunts with the force his hips hit into you with. A weak exclamation of your enthusiasm, a breathy, "Oh, fuck, baby, yes." as your nails join your fingers in the frantic clutching and clawing at his back, pulling him even closer. 

He feels your body shudder, your head pushing back against his hand that cradled it. The dulcet called pet name that he'd never heard before coming from the one he'd call the same makes his body tremble against yours. Your breathing growing faster, high pitched with your open and gasping mouth. 

"S'il vous plait Alfie, plu dur." (please Alfie, harder) you whimper.

"Oui, mon amour." he murmurs before his lips graze your ear, he moves back to cover your mouth with his and you receive him with zeal. One hand moves down to roughly grab his bum as he moves faster.

A dark and rich velvety moan extracted as the sound of him using his French tongue makes a wave of pleasure unexpectedly wash over you, bringing you closer. He hears the difference, feels you tense around him as your back arches. As always, he listened and learned. 

"Aimez-vous quand je parle francais quand je suis en vous, mon amour?" (Do you like it when I speak French when I am inside you, my love?) he groans against your sucking lips. 

"Oui, Oui. Je fais. Plus. Je suis si proche." (Yes, yes. I do. More. I'm so close.) your voice is pleading and weak, making him feel the same. 

"Fais le pour moi. S'il vous plait, maissez-moi vous sentir." (Do it for me. Please, let me feel you.) his tongue laps the sweat from your neck, feeling his deep groans and heavy breaths against your salty skin. "J'en ai besoin. J'ai besoin de vous. Fin moi avec l'etreinte de velours de ta chatte." (I need it. I need you. End me with the velvet embrace of your cunt.) his voice is almost a growl to you now, full of pent-up longing that was desperate to be released by you both. 

"Tu te sans bien, s'il vous plait. S'il vous plait, Alfie fais moi jouir." (You feel so good, please. Please, Alfie make me cum.) a harsh and biting kiss stops your cries, his hand moves between your thighs, quick and sure fingers against your clit and in moments you're gone. Your vision tunnels before your eyes roll back in your head, lashes fluttering wildly as starbursts that could be fireworks appear before your eyes. Your head was thrown back first, a deep, gasping inhale before your body convulses violently against him, your stomach tenses, your face brought up to his shoulder as you cry out against it, lips pressed against him as you can't control the helpless noises that leave you. Incoherent words, a range of low moans switching to high pitched squeals and gasps and back again as his hips and fingers don't stop. Your hips vibrate and buck against him, ankles becoming uncrossed as they snap apart, your knees falling back and drawing up as you take him in further. 

"Fuckin' 'ell Genevieve." he says in disbelief at how your body reacts to him. If you'd been out to make him feel like a king you were certainly doing so. He feels so greedy for more of you, so taut and hot around his cock. He foregoes the tenderness, your powerless display shattering the strong woman he knew you as made him embrace that wickedness. He pushes your knees farther back and into the bed, raising up and hammering his hips against yours. A growl through gritted teeth as your nails scale his heaving chest, the display of overwhelming masculinity that he put on full display before you leaves you a mess against the now damp sheets of his bed. 

"LA BAISE!" (the fuck) you moan out loud and deliberately, one hand in your hair now, trying to keep your eyes on him but you both can feel the next orgasm building. Still not recovered from the first, the angle he holds you down in and your body already so responsive and wanting makes you defenseless against it. "Alfie!" you literally cry out as a stray tear falls down your face. "Tu vas me faire houir encore." (You'll make me cum again.) you manage to form words through the pounding of him and the shaking of your own body. 

"Bien." (good) he growls through gritted teeth, his eyes dark under his heavy brow, nostrils flared and veins pulsing as he gives himself over to you. "Jouir pour moi." (cum for me) he demands, thumb sliding rapidly over your clit again as the moans start again. Your mouth falls open, nothing to hold this round of whimpers and cries that were all so delicate and high pitched and feminine he loses himself quickly in the song you sing for him. He holds out as long as he can inside you, that possessive and animalistic side of him coming through as he pulls out of you, still shaking despite the void left and grips himself tight, curses and moans, groans and pants as his strong hands move in a blurred speed as he cums. Pearlescent ropes spanning out over your stomach and chest, his neanderthal brain needing to mark you, to claim you, to see himself all over your writhing body so it was clear you were his own. 

He stalls to a weak spurt, cum running down his knuckles before he releases his grip, letting your knees fall back to a position less imposing and while he's still hard enough pushing back into you, almost fully collapsing against you as he bring.s your bodies together for a much slower, but still passionate kiss, his arms wrapping around your tremoring body, his kisses traveling to your collarbone and neck, both panting in your exertion and now exhaustion. 

As he softens inside you, the kisses continue. The rushed back and forth turns slow, languid and takes pauses for contented sighs and hums, smiles and giggles as you both float back down to earth again. 

"That was...rather intense." you say in a sigh, a deep chuckle following as he grunts in agreement into your neck. "You sound so sexy when you speak French by the way." you say with a wrinkled nose and a girlish giggle as his deep husky laugh travels across your face.

"C'est note."(Noted.) he says as he grins down at you, a kiss to your nose before groaning and lifting himself off of you with his arms. 

"I couldn't proper appreciate it the first I heard it." you smirk and bite his lower lip.

"I am sorry 'bout that as well, yeah?" he says with raised brows, kissing your nose. "You assumed and then I didn't want to embarrass you and then it all got out of hand." he mutters.

"I was embarrassed." you nod and chuckle. "I remember talking about how handsome you were and how it made me want to fuck you." you push your forehead to his shoulder to hide your face as your shoulders shake with laughter.

"Don't gotta remind me. I'll never fuckin' forget that." he grins, a noisy kiss placed to your cheek as you lean back again. "I'll be right back, luv. I've gone and made a mess of ya." he chuckles and gives you a wink after an affectionate smooch. 

You watch his every move as he crawls off the bed, hopping slightly as his second foot hits the floor and stretching on the way to the en-suite bathroom. Even in your satiated state, he still looked delicious. You lay on your side, propped up on your elbow and running your hand through your hair to get the damp pieces off your body. He reappears with a washcloth, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"C'mere, scoot closer, luv." he says softly and you obey. He wipes down your torso, spanning your neck and down to your thighs before concluding between them. He takes the few steps to toss the cloth into the bathroom. 

"You look fantastic by the way." you purr, now on your stomach as he returns, feet kicking in the air, thumb in your mouth as you've pulled a pillow up to your chest, your arms wrapped around it. 

"And you my love..." his voice is tired but you hear the rumble of appreciation in it as his eyes move up and down your body. His fingers trace from your shoulders, down your spine, over the arch of your bum and tickle the soles of your feet as you twitch away from him and laugh. "Are even more exquisite than ever." a lazy smile comes across his face slowly. 

"Thank you." you say with a shy smile that warms him down to his bones. "You wouldn't mind if I stayed the night would you?"

He scoffs out a laugh, a light smack to your bum as his shoulders shake. "I'd be heartbroken all over again if you did not." he grins. 

"Mmm. Good." you say cheekily. "Can someone tell Joseph to go home then?" you laugh. 

"I might've told him to already before I came up here." he says with a raised brow and knowing grin.

You reach out to smack his bare thigh. "Cheeky bugger." you chuckle, taking off your jewelry and laying it on his nightstand. A gesture he found himself touched by with the intimacy of, the trust you showed with shedding everything to be yourself with him in his own home. You slide your legs off the bed. "I'll be right back. Get the bed ready for us?" you ask softly, his hands moving to your arse and squeezing, pulling you close clumsily as you stumble and knock against him. He places his face between your breasts and hums, a kiss to your sternum before answering.

"'Course." he says in a gruff, obvious tone. A gentle smack to your cheeks and you turn to go pee and explore his bathroom. A claw foot tub, black and white tiled floor, walls the same red as his bedroom. A tucked away in the corner, a toilet and a lovely decorative stand alone sink with a beautifully framed mirror above it. You fuss only slightly with your raccoon eyes, your hair looking lovely as sex hair always did somehow. When you exit the fire is brighter and he's crawling into bed. "You'll catch your death out there luv, get in here." he says with a smile, hand holding up the covers as you, unexpectedly to him, take a short little run and jump into the bed like a child, a loud laugh coming from deep in his stomach as your mewls and the way you snuggle into him amuse him to no end. He hadn't even imagined it would feel so good to be wanted like this.

"This bed is great." you say wiggling down into it on your back as he's propped up on an elbow looking down as you after pulling the covers up over you both. 

"Not as nice without you in it." he admits, a hand pushing back your hair from your face. 

"Neither is mine without you," you agree with a happy sigh. You turn into his chest, he lays on his back with your face near his, chin lifted to plant a kiss to his chin. His fingers stroke your hair, the other hand on top of yours on his chest. After laying in a comfortable silence, you feel compelled to ask what's nagging in your mind. "You didn't... want to leave... did you?"

"I did not. I just thought it best as I couldn't stand to hurt you any longer. And I'll keep apologizin' for it, luv. I know it weren't right and I'm sorry." he murmurs into your hair. 

"What made you come back to me? Made you decide you wanted to be with me?" your voice is timid and sweet and he wraps his arms tightly around you. 

"I realized that I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I didn't." he admits, kissing your forehead. "Might've realized I'd be inclined to fuckin' murder any man that got near you. Terrible business plan." he says playfully.

It draws a laugh from you and you lightly smack his chest. "Such a romantic you are." you giggle. "My sentimental fool." you coo and kiss his chin.   
You lay in silence for a few moments. As always, never awkward, always calm and rich. "Do you have any plans tomorrow, mon Fie?" your voice weak and sleepy.

"I do not. Do you my love?" he asks, voice lacking it's typical boom as he too is finding the situation too perfect not to melt together into sleep. 

"No." you smile into his chest. 

"Then we will spend it together." he says, the final kiss of the night to the top of your head. 

"A perfect Saturday." you murmur out before another yawn overtakes you and you both fall asleep, back in your lover's bubble where you both longed to stay.


	56. Knee Socks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW   
> Song for the chapter is Arctic Monkeys - Knee Socks.

A knock to the door of the bedroom wakes you both. You barely flutter your lashes before keeping them closed again. 

"Yeah. Fuckin'..." he clears his throat. "Yes Magda we'll be down." he shouts before laying back down behind you, both arms wrapping around your body as you smile. He pulls you to him. "Fuckin' c'mere." he grunts out, tone playful already for just having been woken up. He murmurs into your hair, kisses soon follow, pecks to your neck and shoulders where he lingers. 

You move your hands to his forearms, letting out a yawn, nails raking gently across the fuzzy, solid arms that held you tight. "Lemme turn to see you." you whine, pouting still when he finally lays eyes on your sleepy face. "There's my handsome man." you coo, shutting your eyes again before your arms finish wrapping around his neck, bringing your lips together for your favorite sort of kiss. So lazy and slow in the mornings, deep grunts and groans, bodies so warm and his hot hands roaming across your back and bum.

"Mornin' gorgeous," he says purrs as you pull back from the kiss, leaving your fingers in his hair, combing through the messy crown as it'd gotten so long. "Never said it before, but now I 'spose I can, he grins, eyes only half open, hand moving from it's firm grip on your bum to pushing back your messy nest of hair. "Your hair is particularly splendid in the morning, you know 'at?" he says in a sigh.

"Particularly large and unruly." you say with a soft laugh.

"'Ats what I like 'bout it." he grumbles before giving you another kiss. "Look like some sort of fluffy, long-haired jungle cat." his deep hoarse laugh makes goosebumps break out across your skin. 

"You like the wild woman look?" you inquire with a loving tone.

"Mmmph." he nods. "Reckon so." he grins, eyes finally blinking open fully. "Suits you." he adds before letting out a loud groan and shaking with a stretch. You see the half curly and half kinked curls fall across your chest and stomach, you'd just have to take his word that unkempt was attractive on you. "Would you like breakfast, love?" he asks, scratching his head and looking down at you. 

"Yes, I'm starving." you say, following his lead and taking a long, indulgent stretch ending in a squeak. 

He rises from the bed and in the light of the early morning you get to see him move in all his glory. Tattoos across his arms and shoulders, shifting as the lean muscle moved, pushing himself off the bed and followed down to the bulky arse and thighs of him as he moved to pick up your dress from the floor, laying it across a chair before opening his wardrobe to put on pants. 

"Should I wear that to breakfast?" you say with a laugh, pointing to your dress. 

"Nah, nah." he shakes his head and hand, tossing your underwear at you, then one of his loose linen shirts. He shuffles through a drawer to throw a pair of thick socks at you. You lay back and shimmy into the clothing, only clasping a few buttons on the shirt as you rest of the end of the bed as he runs his fingers through his hair to slick it back in the mirror. "Don't get up yet, sweetheart." he wags a finger at you as you start to stand. 

Your brows raise in question, watching him move to the door. 

"Got a surprise." he says with a mischievous grin before opening the door. 

It clicks open and you hear a snort from the other side. The huge wrinkly head of a mastiff pokes through much to your surprise. You both lock eyes and freeze. He doesn't seem sure what to do with this strange lady in his owner's bed and you don't know what to do with this gigantic dog in your boyfriend's bedroom. He looks to Alfie curiously for direction.

"Go on, say 'ello to Genny." he says, motioning his hand in your direction. The big pup's ears perk up at your name a soft snort coming from him as you lower your hand for him to sniff. 

"Hello there." you say in a soft, friendly tone. You must smell slightly like Alfie, as he lets out a loud snorf sound, his big jowls puffing out before he started licking your hand. "You got a dog?" you ask with a smile as he moves closer to you for you to pet him. You gently start with his head. 

"His name's Cyril." he says, his head tilted and watching the large beast start to lick at your knee as your long nails scratched his head. 

"Oh he likes this just like his papa," you say with a laugh, now using both hands to give him a good solid scratch to both sides of his neck. "Hello Cyril," you say sweetly, his tail starts to wag. "Did you keep an eye on Alfie while I was away? Was he a good boy like you're being right now?" the magic words cause his back half to wiggle back and forth. 

"He's happy to finally meet the woman I've been jabbering about I'd say." he huffs out with a laugh, crossing his arms and watching you both. Cyril lunges to put his paws up on the bed and you test his lack of personal space by giving him a kiss to the head. He seems to like it as he licks your face in return. 

"Has he been talking about me?" you ask him in a baby talk tone, pouting your lips at him. "Nice things I hope," you say to the now rather content looking dog. "You're a very handsome pup Cyril." you compliment him, smooshing his face just slightly. "A little drooly but very sweet boy aren't you?" you coo and his lower half starts to wag back and forth aggressively and you laugh, giving him a kiss to the head again. "He's very well behaved." you return your eyes to Alfie who's looking at you with a content expression, similar to his dogs. 

"Eh." he shrugs. "He's showin' off 'cause there's a lady in the house I bet. After you leave he'll go back to being a pain in the arse I'm sure." he says grumpily but you know he's only kidding. "You wantin' to eat now, love?" he asks, pulling the door open further.  
"Oh yes please." you say giving Cyril one last scratch to his back before Alfie takes your hand and lead you down the stairs. 

\----

"I knew when I saw you walk in that door you had to be the Genevieve he's been talking about." the older maid says with a smile and a little bow as you walk into the kitchen. Cyril moves to curl up next to the fire, entirely unbothered by your presence. 

"Don't be selling me out so quickly Magda." he gruffs out with an easy-going smile. 

"Oh, she knows how much you like her if you got her to spend the night. I'm not giving anything away she doesn't already know." she says dismissively. 

"Seems you have an Aggie as well?" you smirk and say quietly. 

"Aye. Magda was with me before me house brunt down." he nods.

"Ah. Then I won't feel funny saying my apologies for what you'll have to hear coming from that bedroom then." you say with a laugh. 

She returns it in full. "I just want him in a better mood." she shrugs. 

"I do seem to have an effect on him in such a way." you grin. 

"Don't talk about me like I'm not fuckin' here. Bunch of cackling hens." he gruffs out.

"You're still the head of the house my dear." you say with an obvious and playful tone. "But now I'm the neck that turns that head." you giggle and Magda nods approvingly. You kiss the top of his head as he sits at the head of the table. "Where's the loo down here?" you ask, realizing with the cold of the open space sinking in and making you need to pee. 

"Down the hall, on the right." she says cheerfully. As soon as she hears the door click shut she looks to Alfie. "I like her." she grins. 

"Of course ya do. She's lovely." he says with a smug half-smile.

"I can see why you were so distraught over her. It'll be nice to have another woman around to keep you in line."

"You worry 'bout your own lines there." he wags his finger at her. 

"She is very pretty." she lilts in approval.

"Fuckin' gorgeous that one is." he says proudly. 

"And yours now I take it?" she smirks.

"She foolishly agreed to such an idea." he huffs out a laugh.

"Good. You need a wife with a good head on her shoulders. She's funny, that's rare in a girl so pretty you know."

"You think I don't fuckin' know that?" he says shaking his head. "There's a reason I've not married before ya know."

"All daft. Head in the clouds or up their arse. Helpless and hopeless. Gold diggers or spies." she says dramatically waving a spoon with her rather spot-on impersonation of him.

"You've been workin' on that impersonation innit ya?" he grins, looking at the paper.

"You caught me." she laughs.

You enter the room, smoothing the ends of the shirt down over your thighs.

"What ya think you're doin'?" he asks with an angry inflection, your eyes going wide and looking over the other side of the table at him.

"Uh...sitting?" you say obviously. 

"Not there, no." he shakes his head, his hand reaching out across to you. You take it and he brings you around the table, patting his thigh with his hand. "Here's your seat." he says with a stern face. You're thoroughly enjoying this new side of Alfie. Pretending to be hard and serious but being an absolute darling. 

"Oh but of course. How silly of me." you smirk and sit across his lap, he easily hoists you up and gets you comfortable, one arm around your waist. 

"I'll forgive the first indiscretion." he says, eyes returning to the newspaper as your fingers play in the ends of his hair.

"You can't fault me for sin when it's acted out upon in ignorance." you give him a coy smile before he turns his head.

"Yeah you 'ave been studyin' innit ya?" he grins, grumpy facade breaking. 

"Apparently not well enough after what I let you do to me last night." you whisper into his ear and he snorts out a laugh. 

"Yeah that'll put a damper on some of your favorites won't it?" he grins, showing all his slightly crooked but somehow still proportional teeth. 

"It'd take God himself to keep my mouth off of you darling." you coo, a cheeky smile, and a low chuckle rolls out of your mouth before you kiss him. 

"Trouble. That's what you are." he scolds, looking up at you from under his heavy brow. You let out a laugh as he bounces you on his leg, a quick kiss to your neck before he thanks the maid for the plate of food. He hands you a piece of toast and jam, he takes a bite of a hard-boiled egg. After you finish your toast he hands you a fork and you pick away at the vegetables, him spooning away at the beans. You'd never eaten such a way with someone before but you found the experience rather bonding and you knew eating breakfast alone at home wasn't going to be nearly as enjoyable, or warm. 

You sip at a cup of tea, him with coffee, both looking at the paper.   
"Oh look there's going to be a fashion parade in town." you say with surprise. 

"Fashion parade?" he says with a wrinkle of his nose. 

"Yes, designers have women wear their clothes, they show them off, it's like a party but you watch women walk around in different dresses. I've not been to one since Paris." you say tapping the section of the paper you were referring to. "You've seen the girls getting photographed outside the races in the big fancy dresses, prancing around the promenades and what not?" 

"Yeah."

"Well, they're paid to be there to model the clothes. Draw interest in the pieces and the designers."

"Huh." he says, sucking his teeth with the realization. "I'd never given a second thought to it before. Had to be more concerned with what's going on inside the tracks." 

"You stick to this section." you tap the list of upcoming races. "And I'll handle this section." you grin as he looks up at you and you tap the announcements. "And we'll have everything covered won't we?" you give him a charming smile and look back down to him. 

"Proper teamwork there, sweetheart." he practically purrs as you lean down to kiss him. "We've been together not even half a day and you've already taught me somefin' new. Brilliant little bird." he gives you a cheeky smile and a small smack to your bum. "All them designers should just have you wear their clothes and they'd be swimmin' in money." he praises.

"On the contrary I've been told I'm too top heavy for the samples they have." you shrug, it wasn't an insult to you, merely a statement of fact. You had everything tailored and it'd never made much of a difference to you if you modeled clothing or not, you had other things to do.

He sits his cup down, nostrils flared as his brow lowers and he looks up at you. "Too fuckin' what? Too bloody top heavy? Fuckin' ridiculous!" he says offended enough for the both of you. "They are simply too light in the head if you ask me. Knob heads! Nuffin' wrong with these a'tall!" he defends you to no one and it would charm the pants off you if you were wearing any. "What's that even supposed to fuckin' mean? Who was talkin' out their arse 'bout you, luv?" he says with pouted lips to console you.

"Top heavy. Meaning I suppose I'm not delicate and slight enough for their standards." you shrug and make an indifferent face. 

He's shaking his head in disbelief and you're trying not to laugh at his anger. "Bollocks to 'em darlin'." he gruffs out. "Absolute bellends, they are." his voice rumbles in his chest. "Why be delicate when ya can be drop dead fuckin' gorgeous?" his tone changes to the velvety smooth troublemaker that you adore. 

"I'm not bothered by it now and I wasn't then." you smile and bath your lashes, seeing his profile as he huffs out his nostrils. "But you all mean and miffed... defending me is rather... titillating." you giggle and stick yor tongue out between your teeth just slightly. 

"Mmmph." he grunts, twitching his nose, eyes narrowed and up to no good. He turns his face so it's level with your chest. His hand moves from the paper and cups his hand on your breast. "You think you're clever don't you?" he raises a brow at you and you grin, a laugh shaking your chest and his hand moves to unbutton the shirt to slide his warm hand underneath to soft fabric to reclaim its place on your body. 

"I know I'm clever." you say with pouted lips and wide eyes that are playing innocent all too well. 

A low laugh rumbled in his chest, a kiss placed to your chest. "And 'at's why I have to keep you all to meself." his voice more breathy now, another longer kiss to between your breasts as his thumb swipes across your nipple. "It confounds me as to how someone could think these weren't... aesthetically pleasing somehow," he speaks softly and shakes his head between your breasts in support of his statement. He hums, kisses moving onto the breast he held in his hand. He holds it firmly, kissing around your nipple and taking his time. "Didn't get enough time with these last night," he grunts. "Could spend all day with my mouth on these big fuckin' tits, Gen." his voice lowers, you hear that familiar thunder of need coating his words. He groans, lost in his own thoughts, you stroke his hair and he grazes your hardened nipple with his nose. 

"I wouldn't oppose that plan of action." you let out in a breathy sigh.

"Mmmph." he grunts, lips placing light kisses to the nubs now. "I actually wanted to ask if you wanted to go out tonight." he doesn't stop his light teasing touches as he speaks. 

"To where love?" you sigh out. 

"My club." his voice is dark and even. 

"A date?" your voice lilts.

"Take you out and proper court you, love." he looks up, eyes meeting yours. "What ya say? You can go home and get all tarted up for your Alfie. I'll pick you up and I can make every man in London jealous." he grins. 

"You certainly know how to persuade me." you smile and kiss his forehead. "Of course I'll go. Lovely idea, that." you reply cheerfully.

"We'll get overpriced wine, we'll dine... we'll soixante-neuf."

You let out a laugh your chest covering his entire face as your press it together and he moans with you enveloping his face in it, letting his eyes roll back and shut. In the midst of this mild physical assault with his favorite body parts of yours, it couldn't be helped by him to remember his worry about someone else making you laugh like this. He sighs contently, your lingering lavender smell filling his nostrils, his arms wrapping around you. That was his laugh now and he got to be the cause of it. He'd adored the sound and look of it before but this has to be his favorite invocation of it. "I don't believe the rhyme works when you switch the language, Alfie." He's thoroughly tickled you and you kiss his head. "Although it is the proper version." you praise again. "You're funny, Fie." you coo and the praise goes straight to both of his heads. 

"Innit nothin' funny 'bout my intentions." he gruffs out, words mumbles from the grip you had on him. You move your arms so you aren't smothering him but he whines, brow furrowed and putting your arm back where it was. "Leave me here to smother love, let a man die how he wishes." he jokes, you see the rising of his cheeks from a smile.

"Sounds as if you wished to smother between my thighs instead." you smirk, fingers moving through his head.

"Also a death I would gladly accept." he starts kissing you again, pressing into the soft roundness of you. "Smothered by the soft lips of your cunt." you see his eyes roll behind their lids, you could feel him getting hard under your thighs as he was getting himself worked up at the thought. "That peach of an arse bouncin' and breaking' my fuckin' neck." his fingertips press into the body parts he speaks of. 

"You don't have to wait until tonight to be buried in that soft, juicy peach you know." you smirk down at him despite his shut eyes. "You get to have me whenever you want me now, Alfie." you whisper into his ears and he groans again before moving his mouth to your nipple and sucking away at it. "And HOWever you want." At this point, you just want to egg him on. You'd missed his touch so terribly and you wanted more of it before you left. You could tell the idea of you being his was something that was really doing it for him and it didn't not do it for you, per se, but how much he was enjoying it certainly made you more open to the verbal restating of how you belonged to one another.

"Every way Gen." he pants out, tongue circling your nipple outside his mouth. "Any way." he moans before sucking hard again.

"Then let's go back to bed and you can take what's yours," you whisper, a deep grunt of approval huffed out against your breast. "And I can have what's mine." you move your hand to squeeze his thigh. 

He kisses up your neck to your lips, your hand moving to his chest, fingers slipping under his shirt. "Get up before I end up taking you on this fuckin' table." he snarls playfully, biting your lower lip.  
You let out a feminine laugh as you quickly hop off him, and he moves after you. His hands grab at your thighs and bum as you scurry up the stairs. You turn with a smile and a laugh as he pushes the door shut behind him, not looking back. 

He holds the back of your head, kissing you hard, a hand moving quickly to your thigh and hoisting it up, running up under the hem of his shirt. "What business you got lookin' better in a man's shirt than I do?" he gruffs out, moving you to the edge of the bed.

"I prefer to wear nothing at all... or you." you say matter of factly as he kisses your neck. He gives a sharp slap to your arse. 

"Get on that bed and get in your favorite thing to wear then," he orders a playful bit to your shoulder to punctuate his point.  
You let out a low chuckle as you crawl up the bed, giving him a show as you take off the shirt, rolling to your back, feet in the air to pull off the wool socks first, then sliding your underwear towards your feet, your dark thatch of hair framed between your thighs as he licks his lips and sheds his clothes before stalking onto the bed after you. He bites and sucks at your legs before moving past you and you watch him lay on his back towards the head of the bed. "C'mere and let me wear my favorite thing." he beckons you with both hands and you crawl up his body. "Get up here, luv." his voice oozing with a gritty masculine nature. "and lemme wear ya like a fuckin' crown." he snarls slightly and you can feel the shudder travel down your body. 

You give him a wicked grin, deciding to stand and give him a little show for how his words turned you on. You stand over his face, hands on your breasts and one moving between your legs. You can see his nose twitching, hands rubbing up and down your calves. "Should I have a seat on my throne?" you ask, same sexy smile in place, your tongue running across your teeth. 

"My wicked little queen." he groans, hands pushing the back of your knees, dropping you to either side of his face. You push your hair to one side, the wild mess it still was. He huffs out his nostrils and kisses noisily and bites your inner thighs. 

Your hands move to the hair at the crown of his head as nuzzles his way between your lips. Tongue wide and lapping, causing you to shut your eyes, a breathy exhale as you tightened your grip on his hair and he lets out a satisfied grunt. "Your hair is the perfect length for me to pull now Fie." you sigh out, giving his head a little shake and you feel his deep laugh rumble across your sex. "Queen's orders you can't cut your hair." you smile to yourself. "I like it too much like this." 

"As her Majesty orders." he mumbles out, coming up for air before diving back in again. His hands held your hips tight, roaming over your cheeks and thighs, grasping and pulling tightly as his fingertips left white trails in their wake with their pressure. 

"Fuck, I forgot how good you are at this." you whine, your hands on your chest and tweaking your nipples. 

"It's easy when you taste so sweet." he grins, sucking a mark on your inner thigh. "You're so fuckin' french love... your cunt tastes like lavender." he smirks to himself, looking up at you with dark eyes. 

"Stop being cheeky and get back to my flower, Fie." you bite your lip in amusement at him, pushing his head back into you with a firm grip in his hair. He laughs and licks against you. He gives a firm slap tp your bum in appreciation for your playfulness. You close your eyes and put your hands into his hair, scratching down to the scalp and drawing long groans out of him. You rock your hips back and forth, feeling the delicious build as he circled, lapped, flicked and probed every bit of your warm pink flesh eagerly. 

"Did you miss this little cunny Alfie?" you ask with a smug grin, a throaty moan, a firm slap and shake of your cheeks as he nips at your clit and you giggle and tense at the sensation. "I certainly missed sucking your cock." you purr, lip bitten in a mischievous expression, another spank, a broad tongue spreading you apart and licking hole to hole to clit, you can hear him panting and sucking and moaning and you let out a cry for his enthusiasm. You lean back, feet back to being planted on the bed as you swing your leg over him.

"Where the fuck do you think you're goin'?" he asks with what could be real anger, you weren't entirely sure, to be honest. 

"Have some patience, handsome," you say softly, turning and facing the other way, as he huffs and moans at the sight of you bent over in front of his face. More firm slaps and grabs, open mouth kisses to the back of your thighs, over your now dripping center and back again. "Because I have none." your voice drops, hand wrapping around him and pulling him towards your mouth as you kitten lick away at him. 

He grunts and bucks his hips. "Get yer fuckin' mouth around me so I can bury my face in 'is." he orders with another slap and you smirk, humming around his head as he shifts to pile pillows behind him to push himself up to bury himself in you. You didn't line up perfectly but that wasn't about to stop you two. 

He feels you shudder, fingers holding you open as he targets your clit and you take him down as far as you can, his hips pushing to make up the difference. With both your mouths busy, broken moans soon start building between you, his hips start slower and work faster as you gasp for breath and swear as you pop off him to give him a few good hard tugs and give his balls a light squeeze. The rumble he sends into you as you makes you take him down again. You greedily slurp him up, hands working at the base of him and kneading at his thick thighs. 

Your throat relaxes and he feels you let out a deep guttural sound, your thighs spreading farther apart. "Ya close love?" he asks between broad licks against your clit.

"Yes, use your fingers." you slide him out of your mouth, your hand picking up the slack. "Fuck." you let out in long drawn out groan as he does as you ask. You latch back around him, moving faster. His fingers fill you up and your eyes roll back and you push him farther back into your throat. 

"That greedy mouth of yours is gonna finish me quick, darling." he rests his head back for just a moment to moan out the words before burying his face again. 

"Good." you say harshly, acting out of the accusations of greed he'd growled at you. You suck at him, hand tighter, tongue swirling, his hips bucking deeper.

"Fuckin' 'ell Gen." his eyes squeeze shut, his thumb moves to circle your clit as he pants for air. You feel his exhales hot and fast against your skin. With his free hand, his gives you a hard spank. "Fuck yes, luv. Ungh." his hips stutter but you're already ready for him. "Yes... you fuckin'... unf... I'm gonna come." his hand grips your hips painfully tight and you relish in it. 

You don't respond, you keep doing exactly what got you to this point as he strains and groans, grunts with every thrust as he coats your mouth with him. You swallow him down without hesitation, slowing your movements and gently raking your nails across his balls as he shudders, sliding your hands to his thighs and doing the same. His head is still back panting for air, his thumb barely moving haphazardly over your clit as he's lost himself. You sit up, holding the one hand of his that was already at your hip and reaching back and grabbing the other, holding them to you as you bounce your bum on his face.

"I didn't waste a drop like a good little girl now where's my reward?" you say in a bossy tone, wiggling your hips back and forth on his face as he moans again and gets back to work immediately. Tongue warm and wet, dragging across your swollen bud in indulgent strokes. His sounds of enjoyment don't cease, hand flexing and struggling at first, before accepting your dominance and giving in to thread his fingers through yours. It doesn't take him long to get you there with you only focusing on yourself. As your hands start to shake, your moans rising in pitch he breaks free from your grasp and reaches up to grab your chest, fingers quick and twisting your nipples, pushing you fully onot his face. 

Being held in place you start to get the feeling in waves, "Fuck... Alfie yes... yes." you let out a long whine, body tensing and thighs shaking as he murmurs something out in appreciation, giving your tits a smack as he makes you come. Your hands rest on his hips, raising up to not smother your new partner, hips still wiggling with aftershocks. He nips at your thighs, open mouth kisses to the creases between them and hands massaging your hips. 

You'd like to collapse on him but you decide not to, throwing your leg up and letting yourself roll onto your back next to him, a hand placed on his calf, fingers lightly rubbing the fuzzy surface to show your appreciation despite your sudden but passing tiredness. 

"And now..." he gruffs out, rolling and crawling over to you, holding himself up over you as you look at him with satisfied half-lidded eyes. "I'll still be able to give you a proper fuckin' seein' to tonight." he grins as you wick away moisture from his beard with a content sigh. 

"Already planning ahead." you let out a soft laugh. "Clever lad." you smile and he leans down to kiss you. 

"The thought of when I can get my hands on you again is never far from my mind, darling." you hum and smooch away at each other. "More importantly, I gotta plan so these old bones can keep up with you." he laughs, laying on his side and you turn towards him.

"Nothing old about that bone of yours, Fie." you chuckle. 

"Nah but the knees... the back... the fuckin' hips... them's another story." he says with a raised brow and you plant another kiss on him. 

"I'll just have to bring my oils with me tonight then." you coo. "Give you a nice long rub down, yeah?" you beam at him. "Been too long since I've done it anyway." your fingers play in his beard. 

"I couldn't agree more. You keep me greased up and you might get another year or two out of me." he kids, a deep chuckle radiating out that makes you want to swoon. 

"You're not even forty yet Alfie, don't sell yourself short." you scold gently. "Besides, you still make me quiver like a virgin when you're on your back. I think I'll get more than few years out of you."

"You plannin' ahead now, eh?"

"I am now." your shrug defensively. "I'm yours now Alfie." your voice turns softer, snuggling up to his chest. "I plan on having many years with you." 

"And I you, love." he sighs out, a kiss to your fingers. Although longevity wasn't something he'd much considered before, he realizes he must now. He would have to work on his recklessness, his temper to dare others to kill him. Having you meant more than just having someone to fuck and care for now, it meant he had to involve you in his life. And so now was when the real work began.   
\------  
You walk in the door to your home. Aggie was waiting with clasped hands and the biggest smile you've ever seen and Claire wearing a very smug smirk with her arms crossed. You stand in silence a moment, trying to hide the giddiness you felt, but your facade breaks and you start to laugh and they join you in mere seconds. 

"SO?!" shouts Aggie, handing off your coat. 

"I can smell the sex on you from here." Claire chuckles. 

"Well there's a reason for that." you snort. 

"Are you together? What happened?" Aggie interjects.

"Yes, Agatha, yes. We're together now. A proper couple." you say with a smile and roll of your eyes. 

"Oh heaven's yes!" she says in a growly cheer and a strong head nod of enthusiasm. "I did it! I can't believe I did it!" she claps her hands.

"And now I need you to draw me a bath and put the salts and everything soothing and fragrant in it because I've got a date tonight."

"Hell, already?" Claire laughs.

"Yes, already. His idea. Wants to take me out and show me off." you say with a shy smile and raised shoulders. 

"Look at you. Like a school girl." Aggie pats your cheek before moving to your room. 

"Feel like a school girl, to be honest." you say with wide eyes.

"So... I see no ring... so he didn't jump the gun." Claire says with a low tone.

"Nah, no, nothing like that." you shake your head. "Handled it beautifully really," you say in a sigh. "Apologized, told me he wanted me to be his and he to be mine. Just... lovely."

"Speaking of love?" she tilts her head, wondering if he'd followed her advice. 

"Oh no, no... 'i love yous'" you say with a sheepish look. 

"What's that look for?"

"Well, I...I mean..." you shrug.

"Uh huh." she grins. 

"It would've been too much, I think to have said it. I just wanted to enjoy it all. I love you is so... heavy." you say more seriously. "Not that I..." you look up and shrug. "I mean I..." you blush and let out a huff of a laugh. 

"Yeah... you love him you little tart." she moves to hug you. 

"Ah fuck. Here we go." you laugh and take a deep breath, tears hitting your eyes. 

"Fucks sake." Claire laughs and wipes your cheeks. "Hopeless you two. You'll be married within the year. I'm putting my money down right now."

"You really think so? That's even heavier." you say with a low laugh and raised brows. 

"It is but you love each other. And you're both loaded and crazy," she says only half joking. "Most would have been married already but you two are odd ducks." 

"Me... married." you make an exhausted expression, blowing out noisily from your lips. "We live complicated lives and marriage has lots of consequences for even common people. But with us, I mean, getting married would be a lot of paperwork and lawyers and... ugh, the other men we work with. What would they think? Christ, what would they do?"

"Send overcompensatingly large amounts of congratulatory flowers." she says dismissively, not wanting you to get worked up over something that hadn't even been set into motion yet. "There's only one person that you might want to think about, unfortunately, and how he'll react." she says more seriously.

"Who's that?"

"Your father."

"Ugh." you stick out your tongue in disgust.

"What's he going to do when he finds out you're marrying a Jewish man? And such a proud, outspoken one like Alfie Solomons? Of all of them to choose from." 

"You know what Claire? I don't know." you say with a frown. "But more importantly, I don't fucking care."


	57. Wonderful Tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song for the chapter is Wonderful Tonight by Eric Clapton

You'd gotten yourself all tarted up, just like he'd asked. He wanted to show you off and you wanted to show yourself off, it was a win-win with how you'd put yourself together. You've scurried to the front door, seeing his car come down the drive, tail practically wagging in your dress. You'd chosen a dark green velvet one, long-sleeved but off the shoulder, your bustier tight to hold up your chest on a bouncing display, waist cinched and hips full as the fabric flowed over them, hugging them and flattering every bit of you. Your hair was down and loose, as it seemed he liked it and it was a lot less painful than the high updo's that gave you headaches by the end of the night. You laid it in big loose finger curls at the top and blooming out in soft, romantic bouncing ones down your back. You'd put on heavy duty jewelry as you did want to shine brighter than any woman out tonight. Emeralds to match your dress, one dangles at the end of each diamond strand of earring, a short chain of them matching in stones around your neck, not to distract from your cleavage which you wanted him entirely distracted by tonight. A single large emerald ring and dark lashes to match how sultry you felt. You do the usual, Claire answers the door as he pulls up, you right behind her, she raises an eyebrow at you and you move around the door, holding your dress up, your black fur coat already on and collar fluffed and high to protect you from the February chill. 

You couldn't hide the smile on your face for him if you'd wanted to. He looked smashing. A tailored suit, which you're guessing were your habits rubbing off on him, a white collar button up shirt with his gold pocket watch shining like his rings in the golden hour light of the sky. He still had the same oversized wool coat that made him look menacing but you'd grown rather fond of the intimidating silhouette. The same black wide-brimmed hat to match the coat, eyes under it dark blue and heavy at the sight of you. 

"Genevieve my love, you can only be outdone by yourself." he shakes his head slowly, taking a long drink of you in. He hands you a bouquet of flowers from behind his back and you stifle a feminine giggle that erupts uncontrollably from you at the gesture. 

"Oh, Alfie." you coo. "They're beautiful." They weren't lavender for once and you welcomed the change. You suppose the choice of flowers in winter wasn't much and these must've been expensive. "And so are you." you say suggestively, a hand to his chest as he gives you a slow but innocent enough kiss. "Put these in my room please." you say to Claire who rolls her eyes at the two of you before grinning herself. 

"Of course Miss." her tone laced with sarcasm. "Go on you love birds." she says laughing as she shuts the door behind you. 

"Shall we?" he asks with a charming smile and a quirked brow, holding his arm out for you and you lock yours in it giving him a happy smile and nod. 

You'd never been nervous sitting next to him before. You could act out on anything you felt now. You'd been reserved and in denial for so long it was hard to just let yourself go in public but you were going to try. So you scoot closer to him in the benched seat, he grins and puts his arm around your shoulder. 

"Should we discuss some sort of... ground rules?" you ask quietly, watching the countryside pass by in the frame of the window.

"Ground rules?" he asks with a furrowed brow.

"Well, we both have reputations, images to uphold. I didn't want us stepping on each other's toes by accident."

"Ah. I see what ya mean, yeah. Good idea, love." he nods.

"As I see it, in business nothing changes. We don't act like we're together. Professional is professional."

"Of course, absolutely." 

"But in public in our free time..." you shrug your shoulder. "I wasn't sure how much affection to show or to expect."

"If someone I work with approaches us, I suppose we'll keep it subtle, yeah?" he smiles at you, big doe eyes looking up at him.

"Holding hands, a kiss on the cheek as we come or go?"

"Perfectly acceptable."

"But if it's just us. Out to eat or, at the bar or what have you...?"

"I'll take whatever you'll give me." he gives you another charming smile. 

You chuckle and pat his thigh. "So I could kiss you if I wanted?"

"Of course you can darling." he says obviously.

"Or snuggle up like this if I wanted?" you cross your leg towards him, a hand across his stomach and your head rested on his chest. 

"Lovely, that." he says, fingers stroking the loose curls that had fallen over your shoulders. 

"If you're with a group of men and we're apart and I require attention and you're not with them on business I could be affectionate?"

"I'd welcome it. You willingly showing them you're mine? I know pettiness innit somefin you should strive for but I can't help but want to make every man jealous with displays of affection from you sweetheart." he smiles and kisses you as you look up at him. 

"And what if you're doing business in a casual sense? Someone approaches you and pulls you away for too long on a night out together. I'll keep my distance but if I feel as if you've been gone too long I suppose just try to find me with your eyes and you'll be able to tell by my face whether I need attention." you let out a soft laugh. 

"If I'm out with you like this I don't plan on lettin' anyone keep me away long at all babes." he shakes his head and you hum happily. "You discussing such things before we even have a problem is...well it's splendid really, love." he says with a smirk.

"What do you mean?"

"You're just..." he shrugs and sighs. "You're brilliant, Gen, ya really are."

You flush slightly at the way he's looking at you, making your stomach feel warm and fluttery. 

"You foresee problems and take action to avoid them instead of merely reacting to things as they happen. A quality I will never take for granted, be assured." he lowers his chin to drive his point home. "A rare quality in anyone. And in a woman with as many other desirable qualities as you?" he shakes his head, a dopey and genuine smile on his face. "I'm still findin' myself feelin' much like a schoolboy when I think that you're mine." he admits the endearing almost shy look on his face makes your heart thump. 

"Then I can admit I've been feelin' much the same." you give him another kiss. "Never thought I could be with you like this. Publically like this I mean."

"Right." he nods, bottom lip pouted out slightly. 

You chew your cheek and see the city in the fading light of day passing you by. You take a deep breath, feeling fueled by his words, recognizing the part of town you're in. "Ishmael? Could you pull over here please?" you ask politely.

"Wh-...what ya doin'?" he asks with a wrinkled nose.

"Indulge me." you say with a smile. 

"It's one my favorite past times but I don't wanna be late." he says almost pouting.

"It'll only take a minute."

"Just a minute."

"I promise." you bat your lashes at him and he frowns and moves to open his door as you have your hand on the handle of yours.

"Now what the fuck we doin' in front of the courts now? This all a fuckin' set up, mate?" he grumbles and adjusts his coat.

You laugh and shake your head. "No, you silly man." You stand him at the base of the steps, taking a few steps back just to mess with him, like you're making sure he's placed somewhere specific. He stands with his eyes playfully narrowed as you as you walk up to him again. You grab him by the collar and yank him down into a kiss. He grunts in surprise but goes with it, a hand moving under your coat to your back.

"I'm not complainin' love but what the fuck is this?" he asks as you pull away. 

"This is where all the men that might report to my father are." you say with grand posture and a certain expression. "I want them to see us together. I want him to know." with your last statement he understands and he's touched. 

"What a bold and fearless creature I've managed to hold on to." he whispers. Holding the back of your head and your lower back he dips you back into another kiss. Your head gets swimmy for multiple reasons and a goofy laugh comes out as you return upright. 

"That's all I needed." you beam up at him happily, wiping your lipstick off his mouth. 

"You're all I need." he says in a deep voice, with a cheeky look on his face. 

"Hopeless... romantic." you giggle, a pat to the chest before you take his hand and head back to the car.

"Where is it we're going, darling?" you ask, as he slides into the seat next to you. 

"Kettner's."

You open your mouth wide and smile.

"Like that eh?" he chuckles, finding you utterly charming tonight in almost every way. 

"I love that." you purr, scratching his beard as a reward for his good decision. "You weren't lying when you said overpriced wine, were you?" you give a low rumbling laugh, transfixed on his handsome face. 

"I was not." he shakes his head. "I'll buy the oldest fuckin' bottle they got." he says in a show of machismo that makes your smile never leave your face. 

"Just get me a good red." you nod. "I'm sure whatever I'll order will be cooked in red wine anyway. It is French after all." you smirk. 

The restaurant was gorgeous, old and very busy. You got to put on your poised public face as Alfie lead you through the group of people to speak to the host and be seated immediately. Ushered hastily and politely by a very posh host to a cushioned, rounded booth. You could hear the whispers and the tittering as you passed, his hand firmly against your back in a subtle display of dominance and possessiveness that you didn't mind in the least. 

He helps you take off your coat, you can feel his eyes burning into you as he does so, his expression not subtle as you scoot close in the seat. 

"I should've had you take that bloody coat off at home so I could've taken in all 'is before now," he says quietly, face turned close to yours as you look at the listing of food. "You look more appetizing than anyfin' on 'is menu, sweetheart." he whispers. "Absolutely delectable." he whispers into your ear. 

You smirk, a quick roll of your eyes at the lines he was throwing your way tonight in tease at his playfully suggestive banter. But as you turn to meet his eyes again, you see his tongue peek out over his lips as he looks you over and you feel that power roll off of him, the hunger in his words, the rumble of his deep voice. This man was having an effect on you you'd never experienced. He could make words feel like they were touching your most intimate places. And in public nonetheless. You'd never wanted to be such a bad and good girl simultaneously before. 

He orders an aged Burgundy, which you highly approve of. He asks you about the meals listed, not having to pull your opinions out of you as you eagerly shared those you loved and elaborated on which would be Kosher. He orders Coq au vin and orders you beef bourguignon. Even though you don't ask him, he asks if they have gougere because you'd expressed a fondness of it. Sharing that fact and possibly a slightly persuasive tone with the waiter, he eagerly agrees to bring them out. 

"You didn't have to do that. They weren't on the menu, Fie." you say with an expression that lets him know you appreciated the flex of power just the same. 

"Whatever you want, if it's within my powers you're gonna get it, love." he leans in and kisses your cheek.

"So this is what it's like to be with Alfie Solomons?" you give him a charming and playfully impressed glance. "How no one had taken you off the market yet is beyond me." you say casually with a bat of lashes.

"Well you hadn't come along yet had you?" he gives the sappy answer with a sly smile. "No woman's ever been so good as to make me want to be a good man before." his voice still soft but sending goosebumps across your skin with the sweetness behind his words. His hand moves to hold yours on the table top. Goodness, he was smooth. 

"I've never wanted to be good for a man before. So I'm happy to say I empathize." you let your thumb stroke the back of his hand. "You know...I've never let any man order for me before." you smirk. 

He gives you a smug closed-lip smile. "That so?"

"I know it's considered gauche for a lady to order for herself but I hated feeling voiceless. Especially on a date. Always a good indicator of what sort of man you're dealing with." you give a small nod. "But I don't mind if you do it." you coo at him, a coy smile. "You listen. You're allowed to speak for me. At least when it comes to this." you raise a brow at him. "But you know how much I love food so that should be a testament in and of itself." you chuckle.

He laughs, shoulders shaking in his well-fitted jacket that made it impossible to ignore how broad his shoulders were. "It does not go unnoticed, nor does it go unappreciated love." his hand moves lightly down your cheek to sell his words and you buy them all. 

The meal is impeccable, making you miss France. You stay close and your eyes only leave each other to look at your plates and even that isn't a constant. You finish the bottle of wine and you are warm, floating and full off fuzzy romantic notions by the way his lips keep grazing your cheeks and the backs of your hands. You share your creme brulee, putting your fingers to his lips as you shush him to listen to the satisfying snap of the hard top. He bundles you up after the meal, this time holding your hand to move you through the crowd and the sounds of muttered speculation about the gangsters' appearance in such a place. 

The cold sobers you slightly, cuddling into your coat and his side in the car, little kisses to his cheekbones as you fingers stroked his beard. It was hard to keep your hands off him. A quick peck of his lips after the car comes to a stop in front of his club. He helps you out of the car, taking your arm as you walk towards the door. The click of your heels across the stone road break the bleak winter stillness that falls on one darkened side of the street. As you approach the entryway, the golden warmth and light of the inside flood out into the street. 

"Mr. Solomons." the doorman says with a nod. 

"'Ello Rodge, you've met Miss Durand haven't you?"

"I've seen her before yes." he says with a polite smile and a nod that your return. 

"If she happens to come 'round when I'm not here, you be sure to keep an eye out for her, yeah? Don't let anyone bother her because she's with me now, right?" he adds with a nod as stern as his tone. 

"Absolutely." he says with a nod and a kinder smile to you. 

"Good lad." he says with a pat to his arm as you walk through the threshold.

"Not gonna have no one messin' with ya at me own club, love." he whispers.

"If anyone is stupid enough to do such a thing, be assured I'll take care of them personally." you respond with a knowing smile. 

He's met with many handshakes, pats to the shoulder and overly enthusiastic faces of people who want something from him as soon as you're noticed. You do the dance of polite nods and greetings, your arm around his the entire time. You look around to see a busy interior, tables filled with bejeweled men and women, the bar filled with a mixture and upper and lower class. The combination makes for a good time, you'd found from experience. They oil each other up to misbehave in social situations, wanting to act out and up to impress or infuriate the other. You believe you recognize some of the dancers on the stage from your time performing at the club.

"And who is this dish you have with you tonight?" a man says with an not entirely friendly look on his face, pulling your attention from the stage. 

"Same woman I'll have on me arm every night." his voice drops to let the man know he's intruding in unwelcome territory.

The man takes the hint with a nod. "My apologies, Miss...?" he says taking your hand.

"Durand." you say flatly as he kisses the back of your hand and your return it promptly to Alfie's arm. 

"Would that be Genevieve Durand that I've heard so much about?"

"Oui, and what is it you've heard about me?" your face smug. 

"Rumours that only your beauty matches that of your paintings." he says in a much less sleazy way. "You've been making a name for yourself around town as of late, yes?"

"I've been around for some time now." you say with a slow blink. "Seems others are now starting to catch on to my talents. But also my coat tails, unfortunately."

"Ah, is Solomons here included in that?" he laughs. Alfie is looking around the club with his powerful stare under a heavy brow of intimidation, barely acknowledging the man as he speaks to you.

"No." you shake your head and look up at him adoringly. "He's far too intelligent to not notice a great thing when he sees it. We've known each other for some time now." 

He gives you an appreciative half smile as he looks down at you. "And I'm here with my lady tonight so if you don't mind..." he says with a drawn-out groan.

The man backs away, only to be replaced by more just like him as you both stay connected and nod your way to a table. He lets you answer anything directed at you, just as he did before and this is a relief for you. Hearing him refer to you as his didn't bother you as much as you thought it might. A year ago if you'd heard a man refer to you as his you would've punched him in the nose. But that was before you'd fully understood the want to be with someone else. He takes your coat, putting it on the empty chair at the table. As one hand pulls your chair back for you, the other unexpectedly wraps around your waist, moving his body closer to yours and kissing you. He isn't heavy-handed, perhaps only clearly marking his territory which you don't mind. Being at his club and having people know you were together would be a haven of sorts for you. You wouldn't be hassled as often by men if you happened to be alone and you're starting to realize that once word got around that you and Alfie were together, that perhaps a lot of men would leave you alone for fear of him. If you'd like common men to leave you be, find yourself a gentleman gangster. A man known for his ferocity, who would knowingly throttle any man who comes near you with poor intentions was certainly the best deterrent you could think of.

You place your hand on his chest under his coat, a signal of your intimacy and seriousness to any woman who might also want a piece of him. The kiss is innocent enough, a single press of lips against his before parting with a smile as you take your seat and he pushes in your chair. 

You sip away at your ginger ale, you didn't want to get drunk after sharing a bottle of wine at dinner, didn't want to make a fool of yourself or Alfie on your first night out. Despite not intaking more alcohol, the wine, or rather its effects seemed to stay warm in your blood as the two of you crept closer and closer together as you watched the stage. Your chairs were pulled side by side, his arm around your shoulders, his hand holding onto your upper arm as his thumb gently rubbed the bare skin at the line of your velvet dress. You crossed your legs towards him, a hand innocently on his stomach as you listened to the woman since on stage. You're reminded of the night you performed on that very stage and a smile spreads across your face. 

"You recall the night I performed here?' you ask, only slightly tilting your head in his direction.

"How could I ever fuckin' forget?" he chuckles. 

"I didn't see you in the crowd that night, where were you? I had hoped to get to flirt shamelessly in that saucy little number." you smile up at him.

"And I knew that, yeah? Which is why I sat way back there." he grins, motioning with his head to large booths with curtains around them towards the back of the room.

"You didn't want me to?' you ask with interest, turning your face fully towards him now. 

"Not that I didn't want it, just not in public, love." he voices lowers with his chin towards you. "I was a bit of a mess, wantin' to be with you at that point. I couldn't very well stand getting that cute little bum of yours on me lap and hold myself together." he admits with an arched brow.

"Ahhh." you say with a slow nod. "That was the night you proposed we sleep together wasn't it?" your eyes narrow and a grin appears across your face. 

"It was." he nods, a smile that reflects the same notion yours did. 

"I never asked you what you thought of that performance." you say in a more innocent tone.

"I'm surprised I didn't get shut down." he laughs and you smack at his chest. "No, luv==ove, listen", he takes your hand in his. "I've seen plenty of girls and their sweetie routines over the years and yours was the only one to ever affect me in such a way."

"Starting out the relationship with a lie are we?" you wrinkle your nose playfully at him.

He laughs and shakes his head. "No, never, sweetheart. I ain't much on the little baby doll bit, ya know? The fake innocence and the frills and what not. But you...." he exhales and groans, his lip twitching. "It fuckin' killed me love. Could've knocked the table off center with what you were doing to me down 'ere." he says, moving his hand over his crotch for only a moment, enough to draw the point home before resting it farther up on his leg, fingers still intertwined. 

"I ain't much on the crude little lad bit, ya know?" you imitate him slightly and he smirks. "But you somehow charm the pants right off me with it anyhow, don't you?" you coo at him. 

"We are but exceptions to our own rules, darling." he leans down and kisses you softly. 

"We can be each other's weakness then." you whisper. "For it's only you that makes me this way, Fie." 

"And you, me, darling." he whispers back, a kiss that's slow proceeds. You let your eyes shut and lose yourself in him again. Kissing him in public was something you'd never thought you'd get to do just a few short months ago. If he hadn't stolen the thoughts from your mind of anything other than him when his lips pushed against yours you'd be wondering what people were saying or how they were looking at you. Neither of you had been with anyone publically and here you were, to them, suddenly kissing in public. You imagine it must've been raising plenty of questions among the peanut gallery. But the great thing about being who you were, having power and resources and money was that you didn't have to care about what those people said.

You felt proud you'd waited so long to be with him in a way, and this was only occurring to you as it was in hindsight now. You'd built yourself up on your own, and no one could take that away from you. Anyone that suggested you were with him for any reason besides love would be wrong and as a woman that was important to you. You knew it had to be terribly important to him as well. You imagine a lot of women had pursued him for his money and power since he'd risen in the ranks in London. You believe he might be one of the few people in the world that could understand your same sentiment and share it with you, that relief that this was real, that it wasn't founded in self-preservation. It felt quite the opposite of self-preservation really, as joining powers was a dangerous thing to do. His lifestyle was fused with danger. But so was yours even before you'd gone public. You knew what you had was real because, despite the harm that could come to you, you both wanted it, needed it and were willing to risk everything to be with the other. You didn't know anyone personally that could say that their love was without a doubt true. There were always things, whether political or personal that would make you question things, especially as a woman. But you'd both chosen an odd sort of approach to building your lives and because of that you had something very few others did. That was trust forged in fire, deepest understanding of the darkest part of each other, knowing that you must live as you wish because it could be taken away at any moment. And in those moments in his club, the swirling of music around you, the unheard murmurs of others, you squeeze his hand tightly as you felt it swell up inside you that you without a doubt to the point of admitting it to yourself, were hopelessly in love with Alfie Solomons.

He was transported by the way you kissed him. It wasn't lost on him what a statement any kiss in public with him was for you to make. You were welcoming threats from your father, opening up questions as to your wealth's origins because he was a known criminal and you could be damaging the reputation you'd been building in the Jewish community by being with him. He'd always thought he would be the one sacrificing when, or rather if, he ever found himself in a relationship. But he'd found you and since the beginning, you'd been the one that had been so accommodating and bold to welcome him into your life. In hindsight, the things you'd done for him that seemed to be kindness initially, although something rare in itself, had been acts of defiance against your primary oppressor. Alfie prided himself on looking out for his own, fighting against oppressors much like your father and knowing he had someone to fight with him meant more than he could ever express. 

He thought he'd be a worried man. Having to be distracted by a wife, to coddle and take care of her in his dangerous life, to shield her from it and live a double existence for any woman to truly love him. The realization that he wouldn't have to sacrifice any part of himself made him certain he'd found the missing piece in his life. You were everything he'd wanted and now realizing that your ancestry and religion were now a major benefit instead of a hindrance. A Jewish gangster and a Jewish businesswoman, both pillars in the community and not having to deal with the guilt thrown his way for marrying a gentile woman, now not having to come under major criticism from the community. He could not only be accepted more so by marrying a charitable Jewish woman, but he would be more powerful and expand his reach in legal and criminal endeavors by joining forces with someone just as dual-natured as he was. 

He feels the squeeze of your hand and returns it, his thumb swiping lazily over your soft fingers and rings, being reminded of how you complimented him so well. He was left to wonder as your soft lips spoke sweet things to him wordlessly if you had been made precisely for him. He'd never counted out some sort of companionship for himself. He thought perhaps as he got older, he'd get lonely or some such sort of emotional weakness that age can bring. But he had entirely counted out falling in love so completely with someone that understood him so deeply, and in the darkest ways. You were his now and he yours and he knew as you kissed him so gently that he wouldn't let any man or even God for that matter come between you. He'd found his love and he'd never thought he'd be so willing to be at the mercy of a woman. But he was finding being in love such an absolutely immersive experience that he couldn't bring himself to mind. 

As he pulled away from the kiss, one that had caught him off guard by the tenderness of it so much that he found himself having to contain his words. He hovers over your lips, noses brushing each other as he feels you smile against him. He sees your chest rise and fall slowly, a quiet sigh as you flutter your eyes open, and he sees your eyes sparkling in the low light of the club. You let go of his hand, fingers tips lightly tracing down the side of his face, glancing over his beard and tickling the grown out hair on his neck before resting on his necklaces. 

"How am I supposed to be proper when you kiss me in such a way Mr. Solomons?" you whisper with a smile against his lips. 

"I find it hard to behave myself with your lovely lips on me where others can see." he gives you another short kiss. "Hard to not act like an animal and mark my territory, to be honest." he takes your hand from his chest and kisses your knuckles.

"Plenty of time for you to growl and hiss later, darling." you chuckle. "Now I would prefer to hear those sweet moans and groans." you coo, and a soft expression washes over his face. "Would you take me home Alfie?" you ask sweetly. You calling his house home was not lost on him. "I'd love nothing more than to be alone with you." you whisper.

"Then you shall have it my little French flower." he purrs back, a brush of his nose to yours before he clears his throat and rises, breaking the hazy trance you'd found yourselves in. You'd shown the public of your affections tonight, now it was time to show each other.


	58. I Wanna Be Yours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW  
> Song for the chapter is I Wanna Be Yours by Arctic Monkeys.

Alfie's home in London sits on a lovely road in a nice part of town, each of the houses tall and lean, brick and stone and iron fences along the front with large plants in pots or stone animals to decorate the outside. His was half dark red brick and half white stone along the bottom. Black framed windows up the three stories showed low light within it, looking inviting from the cold outside. Magda pulls open the door as you walk up Alfie's stone front stoop of his townhouse. 

"Good evening sir. Miss." she gives you each a nod as he ushers you inside first with a wide sweeping arm. The lights were darker than they had been at the party, you notice candles and only a light from the doorway where the kitchen was on. You hear the scratch of claws on the hard wood floor as Cyril waddles his way down the hall from Alfie's study.

She takes your coat and the only other thing you hear in the house is the sound of a record player on another level. "I put your bag in the master bedroom, Miss." she says as she takes Alfie coat. 

"Thank you." you give her a kind nod, Joseph on his errands had dropped off a bag of your clothes and toiletries while you'd been out with Alfie. You didn't want to be without at his place again so you'd taken precautions this time. You watch Alfie pucker his lips and greet his pet with fondness, a few slaps to the bum, a good scratch behind the ears before Cyril turns to you, expecting the same and you gladly give it. 

"Tea is in your room sir." she gives him a nod and a pleasant smile that he reciprocates. "And I am off to see my sister for the night." she concludes after hanging your coats in the closet by the door. 

You tilt your head in question but Alfie responds knowingly, "Send her my regards" he says shutting and locking the door behind her.

"She's leaving?" you ask with a questioning expression. 

"Wanted it to only be us tonight, love." he says softly, hands moving around your waist. 

"Oh." you say with surprise, your lashes batting a bit. "Is it safe to do such a thing?" you ask with high brows.

He chuckles, brushing your hair from your face. "I have men watching the house always, don't worry about a thing." he says with a comforting tone, nodding before he kisses your forehead. "You're safe here, not your job to be bothered with such things when you're here with me, right?" You give him a nod with wide eyes that take in the soft expression on his face as he looks down at you. The expression was saved for only you behind closed doors, even with the vulnerability he'd shown as he kissed you at the club tonight, it still wasn't this charming face that was gazing at you currently. 

"Of course, darling." you say with a fast shake of your head in understanding.

"You don't have to worry 'bout a thing tonight, sweetheart. I've got everyfin' covered."

"As always." you smile and give him a small kiss. "If there's no one here why is there music playing?" you ask, your head turning towards the stairs. 

"Why don't you go see for yourself?" he says obviously and you turn back to him and tilt your head. You purse your lips at him and hum with interest. 

"What are you up to Solomons?" you lilt as you hitch up your dress and walk up the dark, creaking stairs, following the sound to his room. The sound builds as you step onto the landing and your heels thud against the new wood floors, passing the paintings and sconces down the hall to his dark wood door. He pads behind you slowly, fingers undoing the buttons on his vest as he follows. You put your hand on the door and turn your face back toward him. 

"Go on." he says with a gruff voice, his hand shooing you forward.

You peak open the door and see the room only lit by the fire and candles. Soft music adding to a romantic atmosphere drifts through the air as your eyes move across the room. A tea set by a rolling cart by the fire that has a tray full of layers of sweets. You bite your lip to control the thouroughly charmed smile that was spreading across your face as you walk into the room slowly, your hand absent mindedly making its way to your chest. A large navy box with a white bow sits on the bed, a vase of lavender sits atop a lingerie chest in a silver vase with a mirror silver tray next to it. The chest of drawers hadn't been there when you'd left, a new addition to the room that made you blush with the suggestion its appearance made. "Alfie?" you whisper out, your mouth slightly agape at the soft and touching display. 

"I wanted ya to feel at home here." he stands behind you, an arm around your waist, the other pushes back your hair from your shoulder so he can place a single kiss to the bare skin. "I had the chest in another room. I thought about givin' ya your own room here but...I wouldn't want you anywhere but in here with me, would I?"

You put your hands over his that rest around your body, his face pressed against the side of your head. "You're so thoughtful darling." you coo, a hand moving up to touch his cheek and in return, he gives a kiss into your hair. 

"Place needed a woman's touch, dinnit?" you feel him nod. "After you went back home I realized it felt wrong not givin' you at least a bit of representation here, yeah? You gave me a room, bathroom and a study all to meself when I showed up to your home. Seemed proper to give you space in mine, eh?" Another kiss to your head before he moves you forward with the push of one arm, the other motioning towards to box on the bed.

You kiss his cheek and move to the end of the bed, your hands hovering over the decorated box. "When did you have time to buy me something?" you ask with a soft laugh. 

"I left early before I came to pick you up. Had one of my men deliver it home so it'd be here waiting for you when we returned."

"You didn't have to get me anything, you know that." you give him a half smile, looking at him from over your shoulder. 

"I'm makin' up for lost time ain't I?" he gives a surprisingly soft smile your way with a nod of his chin to sell his confidence on the matter. "You needed somefin' to keep here to wear innit ya?" he adds with a forward motion of his hand. "Open it, love." he says quietly with a commanding nod.

You give him a look that tells him he shouldn't have but you'd gladly accept. You begin the process he loves to watch, one of his favorite things to see your body do, that being reacting to a gift he's given you. He got a deep thrill from it, the way your fingers tentatively unwrapped the bow, sliding around the edges of the box to pop it open, the way your eyes dilated and you wet your lips every time. He could never see you do it enough. So as that stunning face of yours pouts its lips, your brows rise slowly before shifting into a smile that gave off enough warmth that the fire was no longer needed. He exhales slowly, taking in every minute detail of the pleasure he was giving you. 

Within the white tissue of the box lies a deep, sapphire blue sleep set. A long silk gown with cream lace along the neckline, the thin straps giving way to a low hanging back. A robe that had flowing sleeves, going to the floor just like the gown was trimmed the same and a matching cream sash to tie around your waist. Inside little house slippers rested, topped with a bit of fluffy maribou just as you liked, making you feel dainty and feminine. 

"As much as I do love seein' you in my shirts, you needed something proper to wear when others are here, yeah? Didn't want any of my men catchin' sight of those soft thighs of yours now did I?" he grins, moving back behind you, not wanting to keep his hands off you as your fingers traced the lace on the hems of the garments. "Gotta keep this beautiful body for only my eyes now." he whispers, lips on the shell of your ear. You could feel the possessiveness laced in his voice.

You lay the beautiful pieces back on the bed, turning in his arms to run your hands up his chest, fingers lacing together at the back of his neck. "They're beautiful darling." you coo, a chaste kiss to his lips in reward. "And I am only for your eyes now." you smile gently with fluttering lashes up to him, your thumbs grazing his temples. "Only for your hands." you whisper in a sultry tone, hands moving down his arms to place his tighter around you. "Only for your lips." you finish with a rasp, leaning up to kiss him more intently. "I would love to change into these but I'm afraid the plans I had would ruin them."

"What's this now?" he gruffs out, his nose tracing your jaw as you sigh and close your eyes, feeling flushed by the man's romantic gestures, knowing only you knew this Alfie Solomons. 

"I brought my oils with me tonight." you say softly. "I said it'd been too long since I'd gotten to bond with you in such a way earlier today. I planned on following through with that same notion." You push away gently, moving over to take the needle off the player, it had served its purpose of wooing you and setting a tone. Now you wanted only the two of you and your breathing to be the focus for tonight. You sway back into his arms, and they welcome you by pulling you close. "And contrary to last time, I thought perhaps you could get your hands on me this time." he feels the grin move your cheeks as he lightly dragged his lips across them. 

He grunts against your skin, hands moving up your body. "I would get to shine up this heavenly vessle too?" he whispers. 

"I insist." you add with a sensual whisper as his hands move up the velvet softness covering your feminine form, large hands squeezing your breasts as his nostrils flare and the hot breath huffs out across your skin. 

"Fuckin' 'ell I've wanted to do nothing more than to touch every part of you in such a way." his voice strung out with need. 

"And I welcome you to." you purr. "But first we have to get out of these proper clothes and into nothing at all." you give a small giggle and he groans. 

"Then turn 'round. Let me take these stunning pieces off of you meself. I have missed the process." he murmurs and you kiss him for his sweet honesty. He'd missed being the one to help you take off the persona you wore for the outside world to see. He'd missed the intimacy, the connection to another person, something he'd been taking for granted from you for too long. 

You turn, gathering your hair and braiding it as he takes his time with your buttons. Small kisses on your shoulders to pass the moments, you gather the fussy fabric and he takes it from you, laying it out on his desk chair with care. Your fingers are already working on removing your earrings, standing by the dresser he'd given to you to place them on the silver tray that sat on top. 

"No, no, Gen, let me, love." his voice is deep but there is no hint of any ill will in it. "I want to relish in the process of you coming undone with me in the evenings. Knowing I'm the one that you let see the facade fade away is something I must actively engage in." he explains, taking your heavy necklace off and placing it gently next to your earrings, taking your hand in his and wiggling the ring from your fingers. "As always, your jewels were stunning tonight." he says with a proud smile. "Turn 'round, now." he directs smoothly and you follow. He plucks the strings of your corset, giving you flashbacks to the first night he'd done it for you, the way it'd lit your skin aflame, same as it did now. "I'll put it with your dress." he says, placing it in the chair before he swiftly moves back to you as you shiver in the cold air, in only your heels, stockings and knickers. Your arms are crossed over your chilled and hardened breasts, as he approaches you. "I can say to you now," his hands move down your upper arms, warming them as his eyes move slowly, almost drunkenly down your body. "That you very well may be the most beautiful women in the world." the softness in his voice makes you blush, giving him an almost scolding smirk. 

"Oh come now, Alfie." you give him a cheeky grin.

"I only say what I mean, Genevieve." he says more seriously. "To me, you are in fact the most beautiful, but to any other who may be asked I do not see how they could disagree." his tone was more smooth, a pinch more preadatory now as he took in your appearance. "And with just these pieces on now..." he sighs heavily. "Fuck me, you are a vision." his hand rests on your cheek and your smile softens as he watches the pink rise in your cheeks and lips with his words. 

"Shall I see who I believe to be the most handsome man then?" you give a playful smile back, harms uncrossing and moving to take off his vest. 

"You are welcome to it, my love." his eyes closing with the delivery of his words. Your fingers open and shift his shirt down with his suspenders. You push him wordlessly to the bed, having him sit to remove every other piece on his body before standing before him with a bold stare. 

"I'll need to have both of us bare to continue but I find it hard to want to when your eyes have such a look in them." you admit, stepping between his legs and running your hands down his chest. 

"Then, please, allow me." he replies as his arms wrap around you, pulling you into his lap as you let out a small huff of laughter before he envelopes you, meeting together at the lips in a slow and deep kiss. He moves swiftly, picking you up and then dropping you back down to the bed. 

He kisses his way down to your stomach, both his hands running down your legs, lips pressing single kisses over your black stockings until he got to your heels. He takes them off one by one, gently placing them upright by the bed before the kisses move to your inner thighs. His fingers slip beneath your stockings, rolling it slowly, his nose trailing the newly exposed skin, feeling his breath as the blood began to circulate fully from its release of the compression. He kisses your silk covered center. Face buried and groaning as he mouths you over the fabric. 

"Fuck, I had no clue how much I missed you, Genevieve. The things you do to a man, I'll never understand." he groans and your breathing stutters, as his fingers begin to curl down the hips of your underwear. "Nor do I wish to. I only wish to feel when I am with you this way." his words, broken by kisses travel down your legs with the silk fabric being dragged by his hardened fingers. 

"Then let me feel you, darling." you say with a ninsistence that makes his eyes shut. 

He doesn't hesitate to give you what you request, hungry and needful kisses as he presses himself against you, one of your legs hitching up to wrap around him with your arms. As he recalls your wishes from earlier, his hunger eases, his lips move to your neck to let you ask whatever it is you want of him. "'Fie." you sigh out, "Let me get the oils and let me ease your body as I have your mind, Hmm?" you request softly, a content smile on your face from his affection. 

"Yes, love." he says as he bows away from you, pulling you off the bed to your feet and watching you walk to your bag, his balls tensing at the sight.

"You recall how this went don't you?" you say with a subtle smirk, warming the bottle in your hands as you walk towards the bed. 

"I do." he says with a pout of his lips, laying on his stomach on the bed. 

"Chances are you'll have to throw out these sheets after we're finished from all the oil we'll be getting on them but, in my opinion, this will be far worth losing a set of sheets." your voice dips lower and you chuckle, crawling onto the bed. 

"I'd get rid of me whole fuckin' bed if I had to." he grumbles into the soft sheets as you crawl over him to straddle his bum. You give a satisfied hum in response, leaning forward as you kiss his back before uncorking one of the bottles. "I remember how good it felt last time, Gen." he says with a darker tone. "I know you refuse to let me complain about the state I'm in but a man of my condition gets terribly stiff in the cold. What with this carcass bein' through a fuckin' war ' n all." he fusses.

"You can complain all you'd like, love." you retort, warming the oil in your hands. "Just know I won't speak ill of what that carcass can do." you chuckle. "Now relax. I'm going to work away all that stress you built up by actin' like an arse the past couple months." you titter as your hands start to glide over his back. 

"Please do, love, I did and I feel fuckin' awful for it."

"The last thing I want is for you to feel bad, Alfie. I'm only teasing. Even if it is rightfully so." you work his lower back and a groan escapes him. "There's my good boy." you say in a heavy sigh, thankful to have his stocky build back underneath you again. "Just keep breathing, stay relaxed." you whisper, your hips rising and falling as you knead his back and shoulders.

He stays quiet, even deep breaths as your hands make his muscles regenerate and soften. You can hear the crackle of the fire and your breathing synced naturally in the dimly lit room. With the candlelight, you see the peaceful blub of his lips mushed against the bed as his face rests on its side. You move from the nape of his neck to his shoulders, feeling the knots and working them out with individual attention. A chorus of grunts and groans meet your efforts as he swears from time to time when you hit a particularly tense spot. Down his back you move slowly, fingers in his ribs and down to above his arse. You shimmy down, giving his bum a particularly good seeing to as you'd missed the bulky muscle so. You stroke him down his thighs and to his calves, which he thanks you for with particularly deep groans as your thumbs rub into the balls of his feet. After your hands have done the heavy work, a sly smile comes across your face as you lean forward, dragging your breasts full up his body to his shoulders. 

A long, rapsy "Fuckin' 'ell." is given in apprecaitation for the feeling of your softness being used against him. Straddling his hips you bow and arch your back, grazing your hard nipples against the slick and now soft skin. "I wish there were words Genevieve, I really do." he groans, rubbing his face into the bed. 

You laugh and kiss his hair. "Perhaps you should roll over so you can speak them more clearly." you tease, moving off of him only long enough for him to move to his back before hopping back on his stomach. 

"Fuckin'... lookit you love." he whispers, mouth slack and eyes on your chest, hands already rubbing the oil into your skin.

"Here," you say dripping a few droplets on your chest and he grumbles to himself as he watches the light catch as the thick liquid trails down the mounds of your breasts. "That'll help." you say almost sweetly, sitting up and letting him drink in your form as its sheen was diverting him from any other thoughts.

"Fuckin' gorgeous." he mutters, hands squeezing and kneading away, slow circular movements, one hand on each breast, then both on one. He rakes his hands down your body, pausing to rub back and forth over your thighs. 

You wiggle back, feeling his growing length burrowing between your cheeks. 

"You've worked me into a pulp, Genny, let me return the favor before I get too fuckin' distracted, yeah?" he says with a charming grin and a raised brow. 

You give him a delighted smile, your chin pushing toward your shrugged shoulder in a girlish gesture before leaning down to kiss him. You let your breasts hang and drag on his chest, letting them bat his face for a moment before giggling as his mouth laps and trying to latch onto your moving chest. You swing your leg over him and wait on your knees. "Don't rush, now." you say, rubbing his shoulder as he sits up. 

"I feel like I could take on every man in London now love." he grunts out. "Good thing too, eh? Now that I've got you to defend, hmmm?" he hums, patting the bed. "On your back darling, I intend on touching every bit of you tonight." his voice drops, fingers trailing over whichever body part comes closest as you move your hair. He grabs the bottle and dribbles some oil down your torso as you mewl and wiggle.

"It's cold." you say with a laugh and a wrinkle of your nose. "I rub it in my hands first to warm it up."

"I'm gonna be rubbin' you with my hands so I figured I'd skip a step, yeah?" he grins, putting the stopper back into the bottle. 

"Impatient." you scold playfully.

"To get me hands on 'is?" he says loudly, his heavy hands rubbing up your stomach and to your chests, roughly grabbing your breasts. "Better fuckin' believe it, pet." he groans, getting lost in the impossible soft feeling of you slick in his hands. 

He proves what you already know, which is when Alfie Solomons said he would do something, at least when it came to you, that he would indeed do it. Those ringed, strong, calloused hands of his caused your eyes to flutter shut as his slow and steady strokes of your body took away every bit of stress it held for the night. Long, lean lines up from your hips to under your breasts, broad palms up against your sternum and encasing your neck. You had no choice but to let go and dissolve under his touch. He worked every finger, every joint and curve before moving to your lower half to do the same. Thumbs swiping wide to tease you by dipping between your thighs before he smoothly glided down your legs where he encircles every toe just the same. With every change in pitch of your moans, he asks if it feels good, and you can only nod and wordlessly reply until he gets to the soles of your feet. The strength in those hands you would never take for granted again as they popped and cracked what felt like years of stress from heels out of them. You moan out swears, the only words you'd formed up to that point and you hear a deep, masculine laugh that makes your core tingle. 

You can feel him hang thick over your thighs as he moves back up your body, a kiss to each blushed nipple, his oil covered hand slipping with ease between your touching thighs. Those fingers that couldn't forget the curves and dips of your anatomy even though they'd tried. He focuses on your clit, running a certain finger over the growing bud as your lips part and you exhale noisily. "That feel good as well, love?" he croons with a confident twist. 

"Oui." you whimper out and you feel his lips grazing up the center of your body. 

"That delicate tone with this supple flesh is enough to drive a man mad." he mutters, tongue flicking out over the dip in your stomach. "Would you roll over for me love? Still more work to be done on this heavenly vessel." he presses his lips to your sternum and your flutter your eyes open to groggily force your limbs into movement again. 

"You're so good at this, mon Fie." you say with a slurred, sleepy pronunciation. 

"Baker's hands." he says with a hint of sarcasm.

You hum out a noise of amusement, arching your back and wiggling into the bed as he leans over you again, starting his mind-altering work all over again. The noises he expels from you with swift swipes up your back, the cracks and clicks all tell you he's putting his work in on you tonight. He was neither brief nor careless, from his fingertips to the heels of his palms he worked you into a cloudy state of mind. You'd never been touched so firmly but carefully before. Always feeling the slightest bit rushed to get to a personal reward, this was unselfish and meticulous. He touched you from your earlobes to between your toes, coming back to rest at your middle again. 

His hands work your backside with vigor, he seemed to be enjoying himself with the weight of him you could feel resting between your shiny thighs. His thumbs press and push and pull under the cleft of your bum and into the muscles between your legs. You hear a familiar grunt as he pulls your cheeks apart and spends a good deal of his effort in kneading you like a kitten after milk. He shifts, lifting himself up to push down on your lower back again. Those same long, broad strokes of hands that encase your entire back as they drive upwards and push the air out of you. 

You feel him again, his cock hot and almost hard near the meeting your thighs. He pushes your legs apart just slightly, thumbs on either side of your slit, reaching the rarely touched muscle in the creases of your sex. A deep and probing circling that makes you swear into the sheets. He would ask you again if it felt good with a sweetly called pet name, but with the glossy inner lips of you shining even in the low candlelight as he watches you tense with each push he knows the answer. 

In no sneaky sort of way, he pushes himself slowly into the valley of your arse. A semi-hard shaft now growing intensely so as he rocks his hips back and forth. He leans forward, lips to your shoulder as you feel his breath travel across your skin. His hands rest on your hips, pushing your muscle together to fit around him snuggly. You look to the mirror on the dresser, your half-lidded eyes finding the tensing of the muscles in his thick thighs and bum all too enthralling. He swept over you with precision, no pauses or questioning what his body was doing. You whine and arch your back, as he pulls back to push forward again, he slides between your thighs, his head teasing at your lips. 

"This how you want me, love?" he whispers into our ear before those luscious lips start a descent from it. 

"Please." you whimper, pushing yourself back at him and you hear a low masculine hum near your ear that rumbles in his chest. 

"Then bring that arse back up here." he groans, hands fast and sure on your hips to pull you off the bed slightly. Gripping himself in his hand he gives his glistening cock a few pumps, hitting himself up against the swell of your cheeks before rising and angling himself to enter you. He bows his head against your back as he rests just outside of you and with the push of his hips he slides into you with gentle resistance. You feel the grit in his exhale as his forehead pressed against your shoulder. With small gradual strokes, he moves deeper and deeper within you. 

With his mouth to your ear, hearing his every breath, you turn your head towards him. "All of you Fie, please." you whisper. His hands slide underneath you to your breasts, fingers taut against the soft curves as you feel the weight of him settle, resting fully inside you and pressing you into the bed. You wanted the pressure, every bit of him pressed against you like this, you craved it. It was a skin to skin touch that you couldn't find anything else to top. "Let me feel all of you." you whine as you feel his lips press to your neck. "All of that masculine, rugged body against me, love." you plead and he groans against your skin. His hips start to moves, fingers pinching your nipples as his hips undulate back and forth like a lazy pendulum as your eyes roll back into your head. 

"I want this soft, divine flesh beneath me like this every night, love" he moans, teeth gritted and face pressed into your slick skin. "I've wanted to make love to you in such a way for so long." he groans through gritted teeth, his hips fluid and punctuated with a shove with every thrust. You shudder beneath him as he envelopes you, feeling that raw power come off of him. "To feel you take me in such a way, so tight and eager. For you, my powerful little nymphet, to surrender to me. My God, Genevieve, I may well lose myself in you like this."

You hips twitch and buck back at him without any thought of the motion, a deep grunt of approval from his chest pressed against you back. "Take me, Alfie." you command in a delicate request. His hands hold fast to you, one slinking down your writhing body as it finds it's target between your legs. Even with the stimulation, neither of you grow faster. You feel your breathing sync, hear the soft and ragged inhales and exhales as you move in serpentine motions together. You felt so connected, so secure pressed with him this way. The weight a blanket of safety, of dominance, that someone else was taking away your ability to move freely. He took away every thought you had except him, every worry, every enemy was nonexistent when he took you over. He was steely in his movements, manipulating your body as he wished, giving and taking the pleasure with his hands and cock as he saw fit. You were Genevieve no longer when you were so intimate, so amalgamated to him like this, you were his, whole and simply. 

The softened but engorged state his hands had brought your entire body to lends well to building to a climax for you. You pant and whine praise and appreciation as he leaves wet kisses along your neck and the side of your face. With the pressure of his cock, the push of his hips, he leaves you pulsing and dripping. In his greed he continues even after he knows he'd brought you to an end. When your cries become louder, more desperate his hips begin the rhythm that tells you he's seeking his end as well. You can feel the heat from him, your bodies now wet with sweat and oil mixed, a perfumed mixture that wafts through the air with your lust. 

"You going to come again, pet?"

"Oui." you cry, back arching back to bring yourself to meet him, greed overtaking you both. 

"That's it my girl, bounce that pretty little peach of an arse, love. Give it to me, Genny." he demands, his hands now still on the soft mounds of your chest and between your thighs. His grip tight, so powerful and demanding without words. You obey without question, for in the moment before he took you over the blissful edge there was never another thought besides him in your mind. With the hardened grip comes battling hips, losing the tenderness as he lost himself, a fast driving force that shook the bed beneath you. You give it up to him again, your toes curling and your feet kicking back, hands fisted into the sheets as he comes inside you with an animalistic growl as if he could purge the evil from himself in the act of it. You both come out of the haze, eyes wide before settling back quickly, gasping as if you'd been underwater. 

His hands and movements go back to the tame tenderness that came with his sweet words before. Noisy kisses to the side of your face soon turn to him on top of you while you lie on your back, making up for the kisses you'd missed out on during your escapades. With your hands still slick, you let them roam each other. Fingertips giving away the need that still remained as they drug down shoulders and thighs. Lips still hungry as they melded together, only allowing themselves to be parted by affectionate tongues through words and licks. Your love and lust calm, the urgency falls back as you felt the exhaustion of physical and emotional exertion catch up to you both. 

"Shall I draw a bath for us, mon Fie?" you ask softly as his face rests in the bend of your neck. "You can change the sheets and we can rid ourselves of the proof of our sin to return to bed together?" you say with a soft sigh. 

"You have wonderful plans, Genevieve. Always." he says with a kiss to your cheek before rolling off of you with a groan. "Not that I want to fuckin' move at all." he shakes his head. 

"Neither do I but the quicker we do this the quicker we can be at rest." you roll off the bed from the other side. You stride across the room to where he sits still on the edge of the bed. "Do you know where your linens are kept, darling?" you ask with a quirked brow and a spirited smirk.

"Who the fuck do you think you're talkin' to eh?" he laughs out loud at your cheeky antics, slapping your bum. "A man that don't know how to run his own bloody house? Hmm?" he leans in with a playful but low brow. "I know where everyfin' is in this place down to the last fuckin' needle, love." he says boisterously and you laugh at his offended nature, doting over him with your fingers in his wild hair. "A kept woman like you should be watchin' her mouth, yeah? Throwin' stones in glass houses 'n what." he bites at your shoulders as he pulls you closer, standing and hands back to your arse again. "Cheeky bugger." he chuckles, another slap before turning you and pushing you to the bathroom. "Do you know where the linens are?" he says in a mocking, high pitched tone that makes you laugh again as you disappear into the bathroom. "Fuck me, what am I gonna do with ya, eh?" he says with happy exasperation, scratching his head as he headed towards the linen closet. 

Your bath was efficient, but as always slightly arousing but relaxing all the same. He pulls on the silken pajama bottoms you'd bought him when he moved in, a proud glance from you for his keeping them. He helps the gown he'd bought you over your body, your skin now as soft as the fabric itself. He wraps you in his arms for a short kiss, admiring the handiwork of lace against your warm skin. You snuff the candles, feed the fire and settle in with tea and a cake for you in bed as you sigh and settle against one another. 

Even though it wasn't your first night together as a couple, it felt as if it was the first true night you were spending together. 

Together no longer held the same meaning, the same feeling as it once had for you. It was now a state of being, not merely a statement of proximity. With your soft sighs, skin and even softer words you intertwine your limbs, blankets stacked and pulled up to your noses as you let him rub your extremities to warm them from the cold of the room you'd just endured. He kisses your fingers, sandwiching them between his hands before laying back to let you assume your preferred perch on his chest. You throw your leg over him, a subtle stake of your claim on him as you slept. You both fall asleep quickly, the long days and long nights catching up with you finally. You both snore from the deep relaxation, though neither of you notice. You both dream of the other but you share the tales come morning as you let Cyril into the bed with you. The pup seemed somehow happier to be in the love nest you were building together than either of you were, but in all probability, that would be impossible.


	59. Under My Thumb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song for the chapter is Under My Thumb by The Rolling Stones.
> 
> Genevieve and Alfie find their busy lives becoming too congested with the wants and opinions of others without as much time for themselves. After her father's thinly veiled threats come to both her and Alfie, they are forced to face how others are molding their relationship. Genevieve makes a suggestion to ease the problem.

Another day waking up alone, which wasn’t as sad as it had been before you’d gotten together with Alfie. You both had your lives separate from each other, your work of legal and illegal means that kept you busy. Without cohabitating, there was no crawling into bed together after having coming home for the evening or waking up together after passing out from a long day before only to wear yourselves out again the next morning. Once again, Shabbat became your great respite together. You tried to spend as much of Friday evenings into Sunday together as possible. It didn’t always work out that way but neither of you wasted too much time crying over it. That’s just how the unpredictable lives of two working people were sometimes. And despite you both giving the public face of being solid and strong in your faith and heritage, the darker sides of your lives intervened at times, despite the best of attempts made for it not to.

You’ve worn the soles of your heels down this week. As it always came in the last and first week of any month. Business picked up and became more hectic. You collected rent and tended to your tenants wants and needs. You delivered by hand your charitable donations and ran the meals for the children at the children’s home. You still had your art classes to teach and girls families to meet that applied for scholarships. This all culminated in these two weeks it seemed, money always needs to be estimated by this time each month by your analysts. You were tired, your feet ached and you’d been resting them by the fire in your office as you finalized your ledger to send off to the accountants for Abeille’s earnings for the month. There were no worries as far as money was concerned but they weren’t to be the source of your frustrations as fate would have it.

Alfie was working, which was understandable. As he did when he couldn’t meet you on Friday’s he’d sent one of his boys over with sweets and flowers and a clumsy, rushed written note of apology for his absence. You’d take to giving the delivery boy, a sweet young man with pristine manners, a kiss to the cheek and telling him to give the same to Alfie. Upon the first delivery of this from you to him, there was uproarious laughter after Alfie demanded in front of other workers that the boy gives him what you sent him back with. This would soon be simply delivered as “The lady sends her usual regards.” which seemed to fit everyone much better on their end.

On this late evening, Claire brings in the last of the mail with a heavy sigh, tossing a single thin envelope in front of you. She plopped down in front of your desk with a sour face.

“I shall soon go live with the Shelby gypsy’s with how I seem to know what’s going to happen all the time.” she rolls her eyes. “From your father.” she says in an annoyed tone, her hand pointing towards the sealed envelope.

“If I haven’t joined them yet, neither should you.” you huff out a laugh, swiping your letter opener through the paper. “Wait until my foresight causes me to lose my mind and then we shall go together, hmm?” you suggest. You unfold the paper and read it with am indifferent expression. Claire waits patiently as she always does.

“I have received word of your coupling with not only a known criminal but a Jew of great importance in his community. If it were not insulting enough that you choose to identify as such against my wishes and warnings, you now are openly associating with his sort. I have heard as well of you acting entirely inappropriately by showing affection publicly to him. I have overlooked your solitary lifestyle, I have overlooked your poor decision making to appear as one of their belief, as you were to remain alone and not have the chance of reproducing with such people, with that I was able to turn a cheek. I can no longer do so and insist you end this regretful affair with this Alfred Solomons of Camden immediately. If you do not heed this most generous and polite warning, I will take further action. I will not have my gene pool sullied in such a way to have your offspring as branches from the Greene family tree. We are a pure and Godly lot who will not be tainted by your choices. I will be sending word to this Solomons myself of your questionable past and telling him of the things you’ve done to reach such a point in your life and I can only pray to my God that despite being what he is, he will see you for what you really are.”

You take a deep and slow breath and Claire remains calm. You move only your eyes up to her and ask for a moment alone. She nods and stands on the other side of your office door. As she clicks the door behind her, a series of loud crashes follow. She frowns and stands defeated and waits. She hears you curse and scream and throw things and she knows it’s justified, she only wishes this ridiculous behavior of your fathers would end. She wonders if she had enough money to hire someone to kill him. Probably not but she could enjoy the fantasy in her head.

“Come back in, please. Mind the glass.” you say in a calmer tone as she comes to see a tossed room before her. Vases smashed, books scattered and the iron poker from the fire in your hand as she sees the damage you’d inflicted to the armchair beside you. Stuffing settled slowly in the air around you as she gently shuts the door behind her. “Would you be so kind as to sit at my desk and take my response dear?” you say while trying to catch your breath.

“Certainly.” she says sweetly, paper and instrument in hand.

“George…” you begin, tossing the iron rod in the direction of the fire with a loud metallic thunk. "No.“ you state with a firm nod.

Claire looks up at you, eyes blinking and waiting for further instruction. "That all?”

“That’s all.” you said pinching the bridge of your nose. “You can read the letter if you wish. Although it will do nothing but infuriate you.” you roll your eyes and move to sit in the untouched armchair. “What a cunt. What a pompous, self-righteous bastard. Why must he live?” you lament towards the ceiling as Claire reads the letter. She promptly makes a noise of disgust and tosses it into the fire.

“I’ll send your reply.” she states. “I’m not even sure what he’s referring to about that "who you really are” nonsense.“

"Some trauma we’ve both suppressed that he will no doubt twist to make my fault?” you shrug and mutter.

“Entirely possible.” she softly agrees. “Should I fetch the phone so you can tell Alfie?” she asks.

“No, no, don’t bother him with this nonsense. It’s beneath us both.” you wave your hand dismissively. “Just get some girls in here to clean this up. The accounts are finished, send them to the offices and I’m going to go to fucking bed.”  
——–  
You take a few drops of your nighttime vial and sleep deep, no dreams to forewarn you of anything your father would do.

You wake to weight shifting your bed. You groan and look to the source to find Alfie looking down at you. “What the fuck is this bollocks?” he says holding a piece of paper.

“Good morning to you as well.” you purse your lips. “So nice to see you Genevieve, how have you been love, I’ve missed you.” you mumble sarcastically, moving to sit yourself up.

“Yeah, yeah mornin’.” he gruffs out and puts the paper in your lap. “Who the fuck does he think he is?”

“Well let me read it first, Fie.” you say softly, getting your glasses off the bedside table.

“It has come to my attention that you have been courting Genevieve Greene. I would insist that this desist at once. I would like to state I am sending you this for reasons beyond the selfish as I do not want her to become persuaded to join your whispered lifestyle or to become one of your people. But I believe her to be acting out in a rebellious state as she’s always been a difficult girl. She has also always been a troubled girl, and known for her deception and lies towards men. I would assume that her nature hasn’t changed, as those who seem to be weak to spells of hysteria and madness never seem to outgrow it past a certain age. As we know Genevieve is far past the age for such childish antics she likes to play. I’m sure she seems lovely but I would have you know she has tried to ruin numerous relationships of mine by falsely accusing men of such unspeakable things that my calling them such should let you know of their disgusting nature. She is a thief and a liar and those traits might be something viewed as good to someone like you, however, I feel I should warn you nonetheless of her lack of loyalty and her history of being, as much as I would hate to say it about my own, a strumpet. Certainly, a man who has such a position in his community would not want to be associated with such a creature as she. Any decent man I have tried to give her to has been met with violence and vicious rumors spread about them by her after he defiant refusal of them. She may seem tame but I assure you she is hardly above an animal when she finds herself bored and displeased. When she feels she has been wronged her behavior only worsens. I hope you heed my warning and if you do not, I will be in touch again.”

You sigh and let your shoulders slump. “Much what I expected.”

“I’ll ask again… who the fuck does he think he is?”

“Christ himself it seems.” you roll your eyes. “I received a letter from him last night threatening me as well. His words to me of you were clearly spat from the same tongue.”

“What’s he on about? Accusin’ men?” his brow is low and you know it set that way not because of you, his tone was sharp and you tried not to take it personally.

“You’re a smart man, Alfie what do you think it means?” you retort obviously.

“They… Jesus Christ Genevieve, what did he do to you?”

“I don’t…” you sigh and look at him with tired eyes. “I don’t want to reminisce about it,” you say sharply. “I try to forget it all.” you look away from him and rub your face. “It’s nothing that hasn’t happened to almost every other woman since time began.” you roll your eyes and shrug, reaching to take his cold hand between yours. “I haven’t seen you all week.” you murmur in a softer voice. “The last thing I want is to wake up to you angry and to talk about what horrid things men have done to me over the years.” you angrily pout. “Ignore him. He’s ridiculous. Truly. I thought my mother’s side was who I got my dramatics from clearly it must be the Greene’s.” you look away and your shoulders slump.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell.” he groans, his other hand rubbing down his face as he takes off his hat. Seeing the sadness in your face. "I…“ he closes his eyes and shakes his head. "I shouldn’t have come in here like 'is, love.” his voice and face soften. He rises and kisses your forehead. “Like a bloody bull, I barged in here. All red 'n angry.” he scolds himself, taking off his clothes to a shirt and pants. “Hard to think with softness in mind when I’m angry and want answers, Genny. So used to dealin’ with men. No room for subtlety or tenderness with the lot of 'em.” he says in a self-deprecating way. “Let me in 'ere with you if you’ll have me.” he says, motioning to the bed.

You scoot and raise the covers, he settles back against your piles of pillows and pulls you against him. “I threw vases and destroyed an armchair with an iron poker after I read my letter.” you admit with a deadpan delivery that is met with a loud laugh.

He leans and kisses the top of your head. “'At’s my girl.” he praises.

“He’s insulted both of us and I know you won’t take any threat, no matter how vague but antagonizing him won’t do either of us any good.” You snuggle up to his side and slip your fingers between the buttons of his shirt. “I’m not jeopardizing your hard work for something stupid my fool, estranged father might do. I’m not going to risk my hard earned life either. He’s not worth it. No matter how much he infuriates us.” you shake your head and look up at him.

“I’m not gonna let him insult you like 'at.” he says with a deep and certain tone that makes a small smile appear on your face.

“Simply dismiss him as I’ve done. He’s not a rival gang, he’s not even a businessman. There’s nothing to be won or lost here of reputation or finance.” you shake your head.

He reaches up and pulls the covers over your shoulder. “No threats of violence then, yeah? Just gonna make sure he knows he can’t talk about you like 'at, love. What an abhorrent and repugnant thing he is. Speakin’ of you like that, estranged or not, his blood.” he shakes his head and rests his hand on your cheek. “You shouldn’t have had to deal with such abuse from the likes of him.”

“I know.” you look away from him and he moves your face back to his.

“I mean it. No one’s ever gonna treat you in such a way as long as I’m around, eh? They’ll pay with their hide if they dare to, love. Not even a bad word is gonna slip past anyone’s lips when it comes to you. I’ll be sure they know not to dare speak ill of ya.”

“Shouldn’t worry yourself over it too much. I’m a woman, people will talk. It’s what they do. We have more important things to worry about it.” you give him a sweet smile he’s thankful to see after his regrettable approach to how he entered your home and the conversation.

“Still,” he states with a nod of his head towards you. “No one’s gonna treat my woman in such a way. You won’t be the only one standing up for yourself now, right? Best you remember that, love. You don’t gotta fight all your battles alone anymore.” he leans in and presses his lips to yours for a moment.

“I’m afraid to inform you that I’m still disrespected daily. It’s a losing battle.” you say with a lazy smirk. “Although the sentiment is wonderful, darling.”

“Who the fuck is givin’ you grief? Not none of my men is it?” he frowns.

“No, you’ve scared them plenty, they’re all polite.” you chuckle. “Take any man on the street in London and have him interact with me for a moments time he’ll say or do something insulting. Just their nature.” you roll your eyes. “No offense to you, your mum did some fine work with raising you.” you pat his stomach, softer from the winter weight and how you preferred him. “Except when you’re angry.” your tease. “I thought your etiquette with waking me up this morning was lacking.” you grin.

“It was.” he nods. “'Spose it’s all gettin’ to me as well. Not gettin’ to see you, the end of the month headaches of retrieving owed money from unwilling hands, workin’ up new contracts and negotiatin’ as the old ones expire.”

“I’ve felt it too this past week in particular. And not seeing you doesn’t help.” you give in and let yourself pout, your fingers playing in his beard as you watch him with tired eyes.

“It does not at all, pet.” he says with a subtle smile down at you.

“I’d like to curl up with you for a week and tell everyone else to bugger off.” you complain in a deep whining voice. “Tell London to shove it up its arse and take care of itself for once.” you sigh as you lay your arm across him.

“Sorry I couldn’t make it last night.” he says, feeling guilty he’s added to your distress. A man should be gentle with his love and you being as hard and powerful as him, it was easy to forget you deserved special treatment sometimes.

“It’s fine. I’m just emotionally drained. Hard two weeks with work and then a severe lack of you… and then George… the horse’s arse.”

“You can have me 'til tonight.” he offers.

You groan and bury your face in his shirt as he rubs your back. “I don’t feel greedy for wanting more.” you grumble.

“I know, love, I know.” you feel the rise and fall of his chest as he sighs with the same sentiment.

You knew that not living together, but being together would create its own problems. But you hadn’t realized to what extent you would be suffering for living so far from the city and thus so far from Alfie. There just wasn’t a substitute for living together in terms of spending time together. You missed that love bubble. You missed seeing him off to work in the morning and undressing him at night, stroking his hair as he laid on you like a pup when he felt particularly down. You wanted him all to yourself. You wanted to do something besides complain about work with him. And with that, you were both reminded of the concern for oversharing or where the line was drawn with telling each other about what you were up to. The trust was there and with being together, but not married made sharing your underground career’s with each other more difficult. In theory, what’s his was yours and what was yours was his but it wasn’t truly and every time you held back from sharing something with him it felt wrong. But it also didn’t seem right to fully divulge everything to him either. Living together would help, being married would help, but how would you even find time for such a thing if you couldn’t even simply spend time together as is.

You needed a break from all the worry and trade. A clear separation of work and play that let you both breathe, feel like two humans in love again. With the passing thought, you chew the inside of your cheek. There hadn’t even been time to find the right setting to tell each other that either. It wasn’t as if either of you had some grand romantic notion that had to accompany it. However, a night out without being hassled, having him taken away to interrupt the flow of sweet words that could’ve led to such a thing being said would certainly be helpful. You needed to be alone. To not be who you were for only a moment.

“Alfie?” you lilt out, fingers rubbing against his own.

“Yes, love?” he says as you both doze lazily.

“Do you think going on holiday might help?”

“I think I don’t have the time. And I’d be left waitin’ on you while you’s workin’ and that’d make me restless and I’d rather be at work.”

“I mean together.”

“Oh, like a proper one, eh?” his face shifts in thought.

“Yes. Out of London. Away from work for just a bit. Get out of the heavy air and haze.” you move to look up at him.

“Sounds good in theory.” you can sense the hesitation in his voice.

“You don’t want to?”

“I would love to, but… work.” he states with pursed lips.

“If you plan ahead can’t you manage it? You have seconds for a reason, you know. You’re the boss you should get to do what you want when you want.”

“It would be lovely if that’s what bein’ a boss meant.” he chuckles.

“I’m serious. You have Ollie and the other men don’t you? Can they handle the shop for a few days? We won’t tell anyone we’re gone, we’ll just plan for it. There are phones if anything really goes wrong. We don’t have to hop off to the other side of the world or anything.”

By the way he’s looking at you, you can tell he’s sensing this was more a command and less a request at this point. “And where is it you’d like to go?”

You consider it a moment. A place that would be reachable, far but not too far. Somewhere that would make you happy, where you could have fun, get lost and enjoy each other. “Paris.”

“Paris, eh?” he nods, eyes glancing around the room.

“Yes. Paris. There’s so much to do there. We can eat and drink and go see the art and shows. I have my apartment there, I only have to call in some help and we’d have our own private place to stay. A driver, a cook, a maid, we wouldn’t have to worry about a thing.”

“Except work back home.” he gruffs out.

“C'mon, Alfie.” you whine. “There are phones, there are men you’ve been grooming to help you for years.” you retort. He sighs and looks down at you with a raised brow. “I want to have you all to myself.” you whisper. “I want you and me… uninterrupted… alone… no work… no horrid people and their opinions… only us.”

“I want that too, love. I really do.” he nods and brings your hand up to his lips to kiss your knuckles.

“Then let’s make a plan. Find a time in your diary that you could afford to leave blank. Take your girl on holiday and spoil her.” you give him a mischievous smile.

“If it’s shoppin’ you want we can go to London and I’ll just let you loose with my money, eh?” he jokes.

“It’s YOU I want, Alfie.” you say more seriously. “Our relationship has become so congested with others and their opinions, their wants and demands of us that we’ve not had time to properly be Fie and Genny like we used to. I miss it.”

“My little Genny missin’ her man, eh?” he sighs.

“She is. I miss mon Fie. I miss sleeping naked all day. Not having to keep covered because either could be seen or called upon at any moment. I miss going to sleep and waking up with you for days on end, losing ourselves in one another. I miss getting to simply enjoy our time together instead of having to be preoccupied with what we have to do as soon as we are forced apart again. And always prematurely.” you pout.

“Don’t think I don’t miss the same things, sweetheart. I try to find the time, I really do.”

“I know, and I accept that that’s how our lives are but because our lives aren’t going to just drop the time we want of each other in our laps, we have to set the time ourselves. Since we are so busy, we must schedule time to not be busy.”

“'Spose you’re right there, eh?” he says with an exaggerated expression before it shifts to his deep thinking one. “And my little bird wants Paris?” he says after a pause.

“She does.” you smile softly at him.

“How’s 'bout you have me right now and then we’ll go plan for Paris, yeah?” he suggests, brushing his nose against yours.

“How about a nap, then I have you, then we eat then we plan for Paris?” you say with a laugh that he returns.

“That is where we are at in life now innit?” he chuckles.

“I know you didn’t get enough sleep last night.”

“I did not.” he admits with a shake of his head.

“So let’s sleep first. It’ll only improve the quality of anything thereafter.”

“You are always correct my brilliant little bird.” he says with a kiss as he moves down the bed.

“I missed hearing that as well.”

“Then let me wrap around you and I’ll whisper it to you until we fall asleep.” he says with that warm velvety tone that makes you hum in adoration.

“Please, do.” you say enthusiastically, cuddling up back to chest with him, his head tilted to speak sweet words into your ear. Even though it was hardly minutes before you both fell asleep, the promise of Paris and his whispered affections were more than enough to leave you with sweet dreams.


	60. It Must Be Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song is It Must Be Love by Madness.

It took plenty of planning and patience but surely with its practice you would be rewarded. You pack your trunks, you call your uncle Altar to let him know you’re coming to Paris and to send some of his workers over to your place. You’d have a driver, a cook and a maid to take care of you both during your stay. You take a boat first class, then a train of the same and arrive in your old home of Paris. Alfie tried to contain his complaints for he didn’t care much to travel but he knew it was important to you and he thinks of it as paying his dues before being rewarded once you reach your destination. By the time you're exiting the train, a cart with your trunks behind you, you're both feeling rather tired and grumpy. 

"Oh there he is!" you say with relief as you pick up your pace to a boy that had driven you around last time in front of a town car of your Uncle's. Alfie is looking at his pocket watch and only half paying attention, just keeping his eye on you, following you as you moved like a frightened pheasant through the group of people. "Benji! Bonjour! Bonjour cher!" you say with matching kisses to his young and angular face. Benji was an errand boy for your Uncle, a strong and stout thing despite his baby face.

"Hello Lil- uh, Genevieve." he corrects himself with a laugh. 

"This would be my dashing companion Mr. Alfie Solomons who will be joining me on this holiday." you say placing a hand on Alfie's shoulder to give him a supportive rub. 

"'Ello lad. Benji, was it?" he gruffs out.

"Yes, sir." he says with a nod and polite smile. "We have your apartment warmed and stocked Genevieve. I'll put your luggage away, there are refreshments in the car." he says quickly before moving to your trunks. 

You and Alfie take off your coats and sit inside the vehicle, yawns and stretches and bored looks on your faces. You see him watching the boy as he ties things to the roof after filling the back. 

"This child is supposed to be lookin' out for ya?" he says with a quirked brow.

"Alfie, shush." you say with a weak pat to his arm. "He's a lot tougher than he looks. He helped me last time I was here. He's a sweetheart so be nice."

"But what if we run into trouble?"

"Then it's you, me and Benji, dear." you roll your eyes. "There are guns under the seat and men stationed outside my apartment. If you would PLEASE just stop being so uptight for a moment, we're here you can breathe now." you say with an exhausted tone and an expression to match.

He lets out a grumpy Hmmph of a sound and sits with his bottom lip tucked under his mustache. 

"Where would you like to go first Miss?" Benji calls from the front seat. 

"To the apartment, please, I believe we're both in need of a rest after that trip." you say while side eyeing Alfie who returns the same glance to you.   
\-------  
Once he sees the nice street you'll be staying on, the men out front, the cautious but friendly doorman, his mind starts to ease. Inside there are two women waiting, both of which you greet with hugs and their first names. 

"Would you draw us a bath please, Yoni. Then we'll take tea in the bedroom and have a nap." you say while your coat and gloves are taken.

Alfie's face softens as he sees your apartment, it was hard to remain grumpy in such a light and airy place. The white high walls with elaborate border, the tall and thin windows with billowing curtains from the wind from the balcony made it very pleasant. A view that would be even more stunning come nightfall to be seen from any window he looked. Everything was black, white and grey, all still elaborately decorated with filligree to your tastes, but it made the place feel huge and clean. A wall of heavy framed paintings went up alongside the stairs to the second level. There was a fireplace and a seating area adjacent a tall window, a piano, bookcase, and easel all sat in front of each other just left out of the small entryway. To the right, a kitchen that was concealed from where he stood, a small room he assumed was a bathroom and a dining table in the middle of it all with a chandelier hanging over it draped in crystals. The air is crisp and cool from the open windows, they must have them open to air out the place, he thinks. He stands and takes it all in before feeling you take his hand and tug him towards the stairs. 

"Come love, let's wash London off of us and start on a better foot." you say with a subtle smile as he follows you up the stairs after a polite nod of greeting to the women. 

You pull him into the tub, both of you enclosed in the marble tomb of the bathroom as your belongings are brought up the stairs. A closed window leaves room for the small fireplace to keep the room cozy. You both sink into the large tub, even larger than your one at home at opposite ends and soak. 

With a lighter head and heart, leaving the residue of London behind in the oiled bathwater, Alfie finally speaks without grit in his voice. "Your place is lovely, Gen." he says in a breathy whisper, looking out over the city from above the roof tops of the shops on the streets surrounding you. 

"Merci." you smile with closed eyes, head laid back on a folded towel against the lip of the tub, your hair piled on top of your head. "Are you feeling better Fie?" you ask with an indifferent tone.

"Believe so yeah. I hate travelin'." he mumbles, letting his head rest back like yours. 

"I'm glad you are willing to sacrifice for me mon Fie." you chuckle.

"Hush." he laughs. "It's hard to leave the work behind innit? When I'm so used to lookin' over me shoulder constantly."

"I understand," you say in a sigh. "But we don't have to here. Breathe in that crisp air and exhale the London fog. We can relax now, Alfie. Let that grumpy exterior fade away. I want to have a happy bear the next few days, not a grumpy one." you say with a sweet tone.

 

"Happy bear, eh?" he chuckles again. "Since when am I a bear to you? First I'm hearin' of it."

"My big Russian bear," you say in a thick Russian accent. "So big. So strong. Much fur for little woman to stroke." you end the playful words with a giggle and you feel him kick your leg lightly. "What? You don't want to be my big bear?" you grin, lifting your head to find an amused look on his face, your voice back to normal. 

"I ain't opposed to being your big bear but your accent is heinous." he lets out a loud laugh and you splash water at him. 

\------

You crawl in bed to nap, but a nap soon turns into sleep after you wake up and find the night settling in. The bed is comfortable and the fire is warm and the music from the street creates a perfect peaceful ambiance. You whisper and ask if he'd rather stay in, keep warm and rest more and of course he agrees. So your first night in Paris isn't exactly romantic, but a good nights sleep and a tight cuddle with no time limit did more good for you than a night out could have. 

The next morning is spent waking up with a good, slow snog that was despertaely needed by both of you. You sigh and moan into one another, hands with simple and firm caresses against each other's warm skin under the soft covers of the white bed sheets. The sunlight pours in from the two tall, lean windows on either side of the bed. No one distrubs you, but the smell of breakfast soon wafts in from downstairs and you both feel the pangs in your stomach. 

You both move slowly and relish in the fact that you can. Your eyes stay sleepy for far longer into the morning than they ever did in London. You perched in his lap to eat. He has a traditional English Breakfast and you have a Parisian one. Fresh croissants and brioche from the bakery down the street with butter, jam, and fruit juice. You take your cup of cafe au lait upstairs with you as you go to get ready for the day. He sits and reads the paper, looks over the books on the shelves, the paintings on the walls and takes in the unfinished painting that sat on the easel of the skyline. He eventually makes his way upstairs after being told you were out of the bath and finds you perched in front of a large vanity, with clothes strewn about on the bed. With a kiss to the top of your head beforehand, he worldlessly makes his way into the bathroom. You pick your newest outfit, something you'd been looking forward to wearing that Freddie had sent you. And you were excited as always to push the envelope. 

You come out of the bathroom in your new outfit. A fitted shirt, long sleeves, and trousers with wide legs, looking like a skirt almost nipped in at your waist. With a few buttons undone on your shirt, your hair pulled back with bejeweled combs, it was impossible to mistake you for a man but the feeling of wearing pants still gave you a bit of a sway to your step, even in heels. 

"You...you wearin' that?" Alfie asks with a cautious tone, looking you up and down. 

"Yes, Freddie sent it to me, isn't it wild?" you beam happily, putting on your jewelry in the mirror. 

"It is." he nods, brow shifting in thought. "Trousers innit?" he says just to clarify in case his eyes were acting up again. 

"Yes. They are so comfortable, my goodness. I'm warm and I can sit however I wish. Jealous you boys get them to yourselves, hardly fair." 

Alfie knew he could be a bit old fashioned and being with a woman younger certainly made him more aware of this trait at times but you'd always been so distinctly feminine he never thought about you wearing trousers before. 

"You don't like them, do you?" you ask as you turn, twisting your ring on your finger. He sees your bouncing chest with the loose neckline, the hourglass figure of the belted waist and he certainly didn't hate it by any means.

"I dinnit say that now did I?" he shakes his head. "I've never seen you in trousers before." he says with a higher inflection. "I've thought only women who wished to be men wore such things."

"Well now it seems menswear inspired is something many powerful women are embracing. I feel like Marlene Dietrich in these." you grin. "And these are Chanel for christ's sake, it's not as if it's not designer." you say with a hint of defense in your voice. 

"I'm not critisizing, love, don't get in a huff." he says with a bowed head and outstretched hands. "It's just a bit of a shock. I've yet to find something you don't look gorgeous in, don't take it as an insult, it's not meant to be. If they make you happy that's what's important innit." he says, taking your hands.

"Yes it is." you give him a nod and side-eye him for a moment, weighing the words to see if they were true. "Good to see you can still be charming," you say in a softer tone, as he rolls his eyes at you as you tease him. You lean in to give him a kiss. "I feel lovely, you look handsome as always so let's go out and have a good day, yes?" you give him another peck. 

He knows he's still trying to lose that hard edge, the habit of being miserable and he desperately wants to. He wants to be soft with you, have you swooning again and melting into his arms. So he tries to set the tone that you deserve. He reaches inside himself to pull out the man in love with this fiesty, vivavious beauty that stood before him, remaining herself and polite despite his poor form. It only took a few moments, seeing the shine of your eyes, the bounce of your hair and chest that made the scent of lavender fill his nose. 

You see his eyes shift and feel him take a deep breath, you tilt your head up at him. "What is it darling?" you ask with a kind smile. 

"You. It's always you innit, my love?' his voice is breathy as his arm wraps around your waist to keep you close, your rest your hands to his chest, caught by surprise at the affection but welcoming it fully. 

"Is it?" you answer cheekily with a smile that he matches.

"It is." he whispers, a bejeweled hand moving your cheek. "What is it my little flower wishes to do today, eh?" he asks, thumb gently stroking your cheek. 

"Anything with this charming man in front of me." you coo with a wrinkled nose. 

"Ah. But she is a charmer herself." he brushes his nose to yours. "I'd love to go see your second home through your eyes today, my pet. Will you show me what you love about this place? Tell me how it molded you so I might understand?" he speaks softly and slowly and you're right back where you'd hoped this trip would put you. 

He sees your eyes soften, then flutter as a loving glance is shared between the both of you. "I would love that as well." you repsond softly. "I'd like some basic merriment and money spending, then to go to the Louvre. It's been so long since I've been."

"Than that is what we shall do." he states matter of factly. 

"As long as you don't make fun of me for crying at the paintings." you say with a bashful smile.

"I'd never." he says with a winning grin as he presses his plush lips against yours that connect you both back to each in the deep and adoring way that had alluded you in London.

\------------

You exit your apartment and elect to walk, You were close to so many bustling boulevards and avenue's that it would've been a shame to waste the cool morning air to the inside of a car. You introduce Alfie to the two men who will be shadowing you for the day, knowing it would ease his mind you'd requested them from your Uncle for the duration of your stay. 

You stroll like two young pups in love, hand in hand down the streets that were well into being full of life at this point in the day. The smell of bread, meat, and wine move in phases as you pass cafes and shops. The artists and performers doing their song and dance on the sidewalks or arguing over movements in iron backed cafe chairs with passion. It made you feel young and full of dreams again. There was a freedom you felt in Paris you couldn't grasp anywhere else. Here you were always under the protection of your Uncle's last name, you were to be as opinionated and quirky as you wished. You were among artists, and that was where your heart lay. 

You move to a quieter street, pointing to the shops and houses of friends and designers you knew from your previous life there. You didn't bore him with specifics but you let him know how much of your time had been spent with these people in these places, elaborating on why fashion meant so much to you. He'd never considered it art before but after your bright eyes and passionate words told him of your studies in fabric and paint alike, he understood how it could be seen as such. 

You talking hadn't bored him but now he sat in a boutique, the only man in the place, he kept looking at his pocket watch in between you being dressed and undressed by posh employees. You would spin on a pedastal and ask his opinion and they were all favorable of course. Around the tenth gown, he felt a familiar twitch in his face, the tapping of his toes and he knew he would upset you with feigned interest if he stayed much longer. So on your next reveal, he politely asks to take his leave, stating he'd seen some places he'd like to go as you finished here. 

"You can go whenever you like darling. Thank you for staying this long, I forget how terribly dull it can be for anyone besides myself when I get caught up in it." you coo with the same air you had on the night of your birthday. Regal and bestowing a blessing on him with your graciousness. "But tell me first, I can't decide between the blue or the red. Which do you prefer?" you ask, a slender finger pointing to two gowns that hung on the wall. 

"Why not both, love?" he says with a cheeky grin, kissing your cheek. "C'mere Miss," he says, beckoning a woman closer who had been enthusiastically helping you the entire time. You had an air of money and upper class about you and he couldn't blame her for fishing for a strong sale. "Get this beautiful creature whatever she wishes." he says, laying a stack of bills in her hand. He could hear the mewls and gasps collectively from the women that surrounded him. 

"Alfie, darling..." you purr and push your chest together, wrapping your arms around his neck from your raised positition on the platform. "You don't have to do that."

"Nonsense. I'm spoiling you, yeah?" he says with a sarcastic scolding tone. "You can have ya fun here and I'll go spoil meself in that watch shop we passed, eh?" he grins wide. 

"You keep throwing around words like spoil along with that money you're going to make a woman accoustomed to such things." you giggle. 

"It's been too long since we've lived a little innit? You deserve these lovely things for all the hard work you've been doin'. You need some new things to wear to your speeches and your fundraisers now, yeah? Can't have a rare jewel like you wearin' what everyone else is, can we?" he says with a charming inflection to his complimentry words. 

"What a sweet talker the Paris air has brought out in you Mr. Solomons." you purr and pout.

"Or perhaps it's only you, sweetheart." he says with that same smile that still made your knees knock when directed at you, just as it had almost a year ago now. 

\------

He drops off his watch to be polished and cleaned, wandering into a jewelry shop with you in mind as it seems in customary in Paris for him to do now. Last time it was a bee that would've bankrupted an ordinary man. What would it be this time, he wondered? He walks slowly across the rows of glass cases, considering each piece with a poetic sentiment to tell you behind it. He recalls the night he gave you that bee. He was just as intoxicated by the look of revealing a gift to you as he always had been. 

He remembers how you were just recovered from being attacked, just walking upright again. He remembers your delicate and slender neck as his fingers grazed the previously untouched skin. What a little kitten you'd been at that time, so soft and fragile while you'd healed. When he'd seen how resilient you were after the attack, staying strong and getting your house in order before finally letting your facade drop in front of him, he wonders if perhaps it was then he started to think of you as a prospect for a partner. He'd never seen a woman handle a situation like that the way you did. He knew a sound mind was required in his line of work and that in order to not feel like he was babysitting, his lovelife required a woman of such distinction. He scratches his beard and wonders if he'd already known he'd cared about you to such a degree. He'd bought the necklace to help cheer you up, a gift to celebrate a job well done with Abielle but, that wasn't it entirely was it. A striking, one of a kind woman deserved things of the same description and he aimed to give those to you if he could. 

His eyes move over the lovely but common pieces. He should get something to signify your time spent here together. That would be appropriate, he thinks. He hadn't been neglectful exactly but he certainly felt he should be spending more time with you than he was. Especially with how early it was in your courtship. He was lucky you were so understanding and empathetic to his situation as women before quickly grew tired of canceled plans. He knew buying something was a mere patch on a situation but he knew you liked to feel special and giving you gifts certainly seemed to make you happy. And that was ultimately what being with someone was about wasn't it? Trying to work to keep each other happy. You held up your end of the deal, being understanding and not demanding things of him. All you'd really asked was for him to go on holiday with you and it wasn't as if this was a punishment of some sort for him. He knew he needed to make up for lost time, yet again. 

With you on his mind, the sapphires catch his eye. At first, he considers a necklace. Perfectly reasonable gift, something that draws attention to his two favorite girls besides yourself. But his lips purse when he realizes that it wasn't just his attention that would be drawn to them. He huffs noisily out of his nostrils, shaking his head in reconsideration. Bracelet's perhaps, he ponders the shiny circles of gems. Allowing himself to get nostalgic as more memories come to mind. The one forming currently was the night he'd taken you to the opera. What an emotinally stirring night that had been for him. He recalls your dainty wrists drapped in gems over your black opera gloves, how they caught the low light and glinted as you held the viewing spectacles and trembled with emotion. That sinful dream inducing gown you'd worn had haunted him for weeks after. The tears you'd shed for the tragic lovers stole his heart that night. A softness to you he'd never imagined possible. Tears like little diamonds, shimmering as they fell down the planes of your heartbroken face. He must take you to the opera here, he thinks. He'd love to see that vulnerable goddess again. He sees a pair of sapphire earrings in a display. At the ends of round stones set inside diamond circles hang a teardrop shaped stone. Sapphire tears for his emotionally charged enchantress. Tears to wear to serve as a reminder you no longer had to let them fall for love lost's sake. By giving you these tears, he would offer to try with everything he was to not give you cause to shed them yourself. This is the gift to remember Paris with. He informs the jeweler of his decision and waits as they're polished and packaged. 

He recalls Claire's warning of you not believing in romance and he feels a fluttering in his stomach. A subtle smile appears on his face, thinking of how he'd somehow, despite all his glaring faults had managed to capture the heart of a divine being like you. He hopes one day he can ask you how he did it, a question for a day after confessions of love he imagines. And what of that, he considers, his brow furrowing. He'd known he was a lost cause when it came to you for some time now, perhaps the first time he met with you he'd known somehow. Perhaps he'd only wanted it to be true then but as the rings in the case catch his attention, he can't help but wonder when he would tell you how he truly felt. He'd expressed plenty of things of magnitude to you and none of them were said casually. But the utterance of I love you was something that was supposed to be special wasn't it? Something you made time to discuss properly since it was only second on the list of heavy things you must face with someone. It sat between children and marriage and none of these things he took lightly. Besides his mother, there was only one girl, long before the war that he'd ever said such a thing to. But unlike then he was certain in more things in his life than he ever had been and you were at the top of that list. The rings sit and taunt him. Calling him a coward, they glint with winks that dare him to do what he should admit he's known for a long time that he wanted to. They sing for him like sirens to allow himself to be swept away in it, to feel the love that you do in this city and to give you what you deserved and he craved Honesty and stability. They mock him to make another purchase for you in Paris.  
\-------  
You call to Benji who was sitting in a car on the street you were at. Under the instruction of Altar, he wasn't to be too far from you at any given time. He wasn't going to let something happen to his darling niece while she was on holiday. You have the boxes and bags put into the car, telling him where you were off to so when Alfie emerged he would know where to find you. 

You trot into a women's delicate's boutique. Lingerie, leisure, and sleepwear in every soft fabric imaginable greet you as you hear a little bell ding with the closing of a door. You peruse, your fingers light on the sesitive fabrics. You chew your lip and consider what mood you'd like to set for your time here in Paris. You'd brought plenty of silk with you but the thought of new teases was certainly more appealing to you. You wanted to give Alfie something he'd never seen before, you wanted to feel as soft as a breeze and as beautiful as a sunset. Satiney bras laid out over matching tap shorts catch your eye, high side slits with lace hems to match, a different approach to your usual of wearing a skirt for easy access. Perhaps you should take to sleeping in these. They'd certainly be nice for summer. It wasn't as if you got to sleep in the same bed as Alfie that often anyway and you weren't opposed to buying something you'd only plan to wear for this holiday but you didn't know the next time you'd get to come to Paris, so you should just buy things for all seasons now shouldn't you? 

A delightfully round woman breaks your train of thought as you hold a sapphire blue slip, a color that resounded time and time again for you and Alfie. 

"Bonjour Miss." she says, clasping her hands in front of her as she looks over the piece you're holding. 

"Bonjour." you sigh out with a smile.

Surely a smile of a new bride, the pink in your cheeks gives it away the woman thinks. "Visiting Paris for your honeymoon? Or picking out something for the husband?" she says with a playful chuckle. 

You consider correcting her for a moment, opening your mouth to correct her but instead you find yourself displaced in time. Why bother to correct her? Perhaps one day you'd be back here, married and looking for something just the same. Except perhaps you'd be looking at the pieces in white. "We're here on holiday, yes." you say with a bright smile. "My ring is being seen to where he orignally bought it here." you start fabricating a story so quickly giving you a thrill you hadn't felt since your party days of lying and stealing from aristocrats. 

"Oh lovely," she says with a nod, pointing to the pice. "How long have you been married Mrs.?" she inquires.

"Solomons. Mrs. Solomons." you say and a rather child like giddiness comes across your face. "Just over three months now."

"Oh new love," she says with a sweet lilt. "Looking for something to make the holiday special?" she says with a cheeky smile.

"Yes. That and I don't know when I'll be back as we live in London and he's a very busy man, so I'd like some pieces for other occasions as well." you begin. Before you know you know it, she's sizing and fitting you in corsets and you're talking about your wedding day. A chuppah covered in flowers, a dress so long you made a joke about having your siblings have more children just to carry it for you, a ring that could sink a ship it was so big. You carried on in your fantasy and you found yourself happier in it than any other you'd spun off the cuff before. Wouldn't that be lovely? You'd thought to yourself, stealing your own ideas from your fake wedding tales. You get light headed at the thought of walking down the aisle, of him certain and handsome at the end of it. You're own personal Yom Kippur, leaving the old life behind and starting a new one with this new joined soul. It certainly would be a wedding for the ages. 

You leave with more bags and boxes to add the collection already in the car. You've stocked yourself up for the incoming warmer months and bought a few things to keep warm in the mild Paris nights. You'd left wearing new undergarments, black lace now sliding across your skin under your menswear inspired outfit. Alfie waits for you by the car, leaning against it and looking intimidating as always. You scamper across the street, hands straining with the handles of bags and his face shifts into softness from the frown as he sees you. Your hair and chest bounced, a shuffle of your heeled feet towards him as you greeted him with a lilt like a little bird, a peck to his lips. 

"You've been busy I see." he grins, taking the bags from your hands and putting them in the car as Benji took a load to the other side. 

"I have, darling." you can't help but wrap your arms around his neck, riding high on stories you'd spun for the woman in the store. The stories about being-

"Mrs. Solomons!" you hear called out behind you and your eyes go wide. 

"You forgot this one. Can't forget this little number," she says with a wink, handing you a wrapped box. "Wouldn't want him missing out on this one." she tries to sell the surprise to your so-called husband. "And this must be the infamous Mr. Solomons. Lovely to put a face to the name, sir." she says with a small, polite bow. "You're very lucky. Your wife is a lovely woman." she says sweetly.

As the woman speaks, you feel the blush rising to your face and the heat of Alfie's taunting glare. You knew the bloody look he'd have on his face, you didn't even have to look. He'd caught you being naughty and now he would be giving you a mixture of a smirk and a grin that would pop the bubble of your fake marriage you'd been so happily living in the past hour or so.

"Yes." he nods, looking down at you, and you still not turning back to him but acting intersted in the box in your hands. "My wife is such a curious little creature isn't she?" he chuckles and you know the deepness of it to be teasing. "Such a vision sometimes I wonder how I did get so lucky, yeah? Sometimes I wonder if she's even real." you could've smacked him if you hadn't been the one being embarassed. 

"How wonderful to hear a man speak of his wife in such a way. We should all be so lucky." she says with the purest of intentions. "Have a wonderful holiday, and congratulations on the marriage." she says, bowing out to scurry back to the shop. 

You stand without speaking for a few moments, Alfie's face couldn't look more amused. He held in a laugh at the embarrassed look on your face he'd never seen before. Oh, how he wanted to tease you about this, to never let you live it down, as was in his nature. But the mood he was in from the reminiscing and thoughts he'd been contemplating while in the jewelry shop had him realizing another angle, the more touching one. 

"And what was that...Mrs. Solomons?" he gets out before snorting out a laugh, he couldn't help it. 

You purse your lips and gather yourself, turning back to meet his eyes. "She assumed and I didn't feel the need to correct her."

"Mmm Hmm." he says, voice still full of tease. "Ya didn't, eh?" his laugh turns softer, handing the box off to Benji. 

"No." you try to say with confidence and it fails. 

"Genny..." he says with a deep voice, putting his hand on your face. "I've never seen you turn so quickly into a beet before." he says with a chuckle.

You shake your head out of his hands and push them down. "She thought I was on my honeymoon." you say with a whine to your voice.

"And are we?" he asks with a charming grin.

"No." you say, a smile now appearing on your face. "We're on holiday. You needed to get my ring fixed where you originally bought it." you start to snicker.

"You back to spinning your lies again? Being in Paris brings out your naughty side, does it?" He knew of your stories of lying, stealing and running cons on people in your youth. He loved the stories and the fact that you could, it was another thing he'd loved knowing you were capable of. 

"I started and it just...kept coming." you admit with a bashful laugh. "Perhaps it is the city, making me want to act naughty." you shrug.

 

"According to her tone, you had intentions on acting naughty with whatever is in that box."

"If you're lucky." you taunt. "Perhaps what I already have on underneath this is naughty as well?" you say, pulling the shirt to the side just slightly, showing a black and lace strap.

"Lying and lingerie look good on you..." he says leaning in and kissing you. "Mrs. Solomons." he grins with a wrinkle of his nose.

"You aren't going to let me live this down are you?" you sigh against his lips.

"Not a fuckin' chance, sweetheart." he laughs and shakes his head.


	61. Maybe I'm Amazed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song for the chapter is Maybe I'm Amazed by Paul McCartney.

You have lunch at a cafe, sitting in the afternoon sun at your small table with the elaborate backed chairs. You make whispered speculations about the other patrons, sitting with your faces close together, hands held together in plain sight on the top of the table. You share coffee and bread before full courses of soup, fish and vegetables and a cheese plate. Proving again that he knows you, he orders you dessert.

"And Babas au Rhum for the missus," he says, hand motioning out to you. As you lower your face and cover it with your hand and silently laugh. "What is it Genny, you don't want to play me wife now?" he chuckles, taking a sip of coffee.

"A girl tries to have a little fun and gets caught and has to pay the price."

"That'll teach ya not to get caught." he snickers.

"That..." you sigh and shake your head, resting on the table with your elbows. "That's entirely valid." you start to laugh, running your fingers through your hair. "It's been so long since I've made up a life I suppose I've gotten rusty. " you say with a thoughtful pout. 

"At least nothing was at stake. And it's just me that caught ya."

"That'd be death for any ordinary man."

"Well you are no ordinary man are ya love? Even in trousers." he says playfully wiggling his eyebrows. 

"I like to think not." you grin. 

"How long have we been married, by the way, just so I know." he says with a quick nod of his head at your expense. 

"Almost four months."

"Ah. Still new. How romantic of you, Gen." he grins. "And where was our honeymoon if not Paris?" 

"New York." you admit, looking down at the table.

"Ah yes, plenty of Jews there innit there? Were we vistin' family as well?"

"No. I didn't go that far." your face is back to easy going and you don't mind sharing the fantasy with him really. He was being a big tease about it, but you he wasn't making you feel bad about it, and that certainly meant something good didn't it?

"And what about the wedding? What was it like? Did you take me for every pound I've got? " he says sweetly, picking away at his beard. 

"Of course I did," you say obviously with a playful tilt of your head. "Why do you want to know?" you ask with narrowed eyes. "You're asking an awful lot of questions for someone making fun of the fantasy."

"I ain't makin' fun and it's not entirely a fantasy now is it, love?" you feel the hairs prickle up on the back of your neck. You see his casual delivery, the confident pout of his lips as he explained. "Fantasy is usually something extravagant, something out of reach. Or something you'd never want but only enjoy the idea of." he goes on with that Alfie Solomons tongue twisting. Sharing his knowledge as if it were a gift. "Marriage and a wedding aren't things I would describe as such. So it ain't a fantasy innit?"

You study his face for a moment, as unreadable as ever, and you knew it was on purpose. He was trying to feel you out, wasn't he? "More of an artist's imagining?"

"And you must draw inspiration from somewhere. So certainly it's something you could share with me, of all people."

"I could." you pause, now trying to remain stoic as well, trying to figure out the reasoning behind those blue eyes of his. "If you'd like me to."

"Of course I bloody do, wouldn't have asked, would I?" he says obviously. 

"There were lots of flowers." you say with a softer tone, looking out across the street to a flower shop. 

"So this wasn't fantasy at all. You'd love a chuppah dripping in flowers wouldn't you love?" he says watching your face glaze over into the daydream again. 

"I suppose I would. I hadn't thought about it up until now." you shake your head and the corner of your mouth turns up. "And that was precisely what I described. Lilacs and lavender falling down like cherry blossoms in the spring. A dress so big and a train so long there weren't enough children in the family to carry it." you begin to grin again, breaking the dazed thousand-yard stare and looking back to the table. "Perhaps not actually that big for real life though." you let out a little giggle and meet his eyes for just a moment. 

"Well that's a relief." he says with a laugh and raise of his brows. 

"It is?" you ask with a tilt of your head.

"It'd be a shame to not be able to get close to you on the day of after waiting so long." he says matter of factly before meeting your cautious gaze.

You share a moment of silence, you find the others face to be softer than expected. You'd never talked about marriage before with Alfie. It should seem a natural thing to do, given the delayed circumstances of your courtship. You knew only a few people that had waited a year before getting engaged. Although you were still learning about the rules of Judaism, you knew from distant memories of childhood that the process was far different from the usual traditions you were more familiar with, growing up with a Catholic father. 

He sees that look in your eyes, although it was rare, he still knew it to be fear. "Is marriage still only a fantasy to you, Genevieve?" his voice was cool and calm. "I recall the last I had heard you didn't want to be married."

"I never said that," you say with blinking eyes and a hesitant tone. "I had spoken from the point of view of assuming I would never find anyone worth marrying." you clarify, a blush rising to your cheeks. 

"Ah," he says, a slow nod, reading your nervous body language. He didn't want to push you too far, but surely he was reading the signs clearly. "Like your belief of romance to be dead?" he suggests.

"Yes, like that." you hold his stare, willing yourself to face this conversation. You wanted to get closer to him in Paris. This hadn't been what you'd meant by that though. You should tell him you love him first, shouldn't you? And you most certainly did. You never wanted to be without him, that meant you should marry him, right?

"And I believe you've told me you had changed your feelings on that particular subject, yeah?"

"A particular someone has changed my mind on that yes." you give him a slow-growing smile, looking back down and the table, willing yourself to face the fear you'd held for so long when it came to love and commitment. You reach out and hold his hand. 

"Who is he? I'll kill 'im." he says, leaning in closer to you with a charming smile that always causes you to address the tension you hold in your shoulders and release it. 

"Bold of you to assume it's a man." you say with raised brows before you both laugh. 

"Entirely different set of problems there, mate." he chuckles and squeezes your hands. "Then if I may be so bold as to believe it was somehow me that changed your mind. And you have in fact changed your mind, yeah?" he nods his chin your way. "Then may I also be confirmed in my belief that you have changed your mind about marriage as well?" 

"I was never against marriage with the right person."

"The person who made you believe in the romantic sort of marriage, yeah?"

"Yes. That particular person." you say softly. 

You see a new sort of smile come across his face. His boyish handsomeness coming through as he gives you a closed lip smile with slow blinking eyes. He leans forward and kisses you gently.

A plate with raspberries and rum smelled sponge cake is slide onto the table, interrupting the eye contact you'd managed to hold. "Excusez-moi, voici vos babas au rhum." the waitress says with an apologetic smile behind bowing her head and leaving. 

"I think we would've had this conversation a lot sooner, had we had time alone like this, pet." he says, moving to take his fork and slice the end of the sweet bread and holding it out towards you.

"So do I." you say before taking the piece into your mouth. "But we have all the time here in Paris to do so." you say, finishing chewing. 

"That we do, my love." he says before trying to cake himself. 

"Perhaps if it were made with your bread?" you suggest with a crooked smile. He hums in appreciation for your praise. 

"Perhaps." he nods and reaches out with his hand again, assuring you felt that he mean what he was about to say, as in reflection to the weeks you'd been together had led him to feel guilty about the effort he was putting into seeing you. "I'll make a point to mark more time for us once we return to London, eh? Can't very well be a man who neglects his wife now can I?" he grins. 

"For my sake, I'd certainly hope not." you say with a gentle smile as you let out a quiet chuckle. 

"Here love, let's eat ya sweeties and let's be off to see the paintings. Would that please the missus?" his face continues to be amused and soft and you feel your heart fluttering about in your chest. 

"It would please her very much." you say with a giggle before taking another bite of cake off the fork in his hands.   
\--------

You move throughout the long hallways of the museum much like you had the rest the Paris, hand in hand. Alfie is distracted by the expressions that pass over your face as you look over the painting and statues that line the walls. He notices you keep speaking of wishing you could be as good as good as the works that hung in these halls. He believes you to be, and when he keeps correcting you, a light tap to the nose to scold you speaking any ill of your skills each time until you stop. You do cry, and it was expected. He gives you his sleeve, his handkerchief and tenderly wipes your stray years from your cheeks with his fingers as you sigh heavily and rest your head on his arm.

"Oh, look at it Alfie, darling. My love isn't it just heartbreaking?" you'd say, your hand to your chest and your eyes were hundreds of miles away in thought. 

You reach a painting that he knows, a hearty chuckle from him as you approach and he points to Carravaggio's, Judith Beheading Holofernes.

"Oh look, Gen it's our epilogue." he says with a gruff single note laugh. 

"Come off it mon Fie." you chuckle, with a roll of your eyes. 

"What I don't like is that he truly looks like me in 'is one." he says with his bottom lip disappearing under his mustache. 

"I won't deny that. But I'd never cut off your head, darling, I'm much too fond of it." you coo at him, lightly cupping his cheek. "But I must admit she has much the same approach as I doesn't she?"

"If you were left a widow you would cut off the offending parties head? Sounds like you love, yeah." he nods and pouts his lips in agreement.

"I meant in the story, the text of "Approaching to his bed, she took hold of the hair of his head." you say with a smirk. "Something I much adore doing with you." 

"Naughty thing. Turnin' bible stories into flirtations. Dirty girl." he says with a deep chuckle.

"It's not a part of our works, so who cares." you let out a dismissive laugh.   
\------  
You come across another painting to resemble him, St. Matthew and the Angel by Rembrandt.

"I don't want to draw attention to it but it would seem as if we're very popular in these works." he says quietly with a pointed finger to the painting. 

"That does resemble you." you nod. "But this is St. Matthew he was an apostle."

"Ah. Then perhaps not." he lets out an amused little chuckle. "But it does remind me of us, yeah. Me workin' away and you come fluttering in, perching on me shoulder to remind me of how heavenly things could be."

"Yes if you'd stop working and let me have me way." you say in a prissy way and he snorts in amusement. 

"Always the same with ya Genny. Meowing about, rubbing on me and demanding attention like a cat in heat." he teases. 

"How rude. A woman can vocalize her need for affection and attention, mon Fie." you giggle. "Although your comparison is almost embarrassingly accurate." you shrug and grin, taking his hand and tugging him away from the painting.  
\-------  
The last painting to draw a deep, gut-wrenching emotion from you was, of course, a Leonardo da Vinci. He feels your stuttered inhalation and looks down at you, finding your face solemn while taking in La Scapigliata with wide watery eyes. It wasn't a very large piece, especially in comparison to the ironic giant size of the statue of David or the entire wall-sized paintings of battles and myths you'd come across. Its size was no indication to the way it seemed to move you. 

"How is it this one moves you, my love." he asks, kissing your head as you sigh and put an arm around his waist, and he moves to rest his over your shoulders. 

"Look at her face." you whisper. Even though the face was the only true part more fully fleshed out in the portrait, he does as he's asked. "How did he imagine or capture such an expression?" your hand rests on your chest as your words barely scrape past your lips in their raspy and emotion filled response. 

Alfie could tell this one was hitting you particularly hard. "What do you see, Genevieve?" he asks softly, leaning down to your ear. 

"I see a fully expressed inner emotion, depicted outwardly as if caught candidly on her face." you let out a long sigh. "The slightly messy curls falling about, the downward casted soft eyes, the glow that is reflected off her skin. She doesn't care about anything else except that exact moment. That exact feeling she's being consumed by." 

"You should describe things to the blind love. Your words are doing the art justice." he whispers, another kiss to your hair as he watches the tears fall from your eyes like he did the night of the opera. Now more certain in his choice to buy you the teardrop earrings for a memento from these days spent together. "What feelin' is it, my beautiful flower?"

"Love." you sigh out, another stuttered inhale past your trembling lips. 

He studies the woman's face and truly tries to see in through your beautifully worded depictions. "I wonder what it is she's looking at?" he asks aloud.

"I imagine it to be what looking at your child for the first time must feel like. The exhaustion on her face, only countered with the slightest upturning of her lips, the heavy corners of her eyes crinkled just so, pouring wordless devotion to the new babe in her arms."

Suddenly he's hit with it. He sees what you see for a moment. "That is what it is, innit?" he whispers. Besides the babe itself, nothing else would matter at that moment except the emotion, and the unfinished state of the painting somehow made it more poignant suddenly to him. "You are bloody brilliant, Genevieve." he rasps out. 

You blink rapidly, taken out of your fantasy of feeling the emotions for yourself. Beyond exhaustion, in pain and flooded with emotion, you lie in bed with a pinked babe to your breast, a vision coming to you as you cry silently. You turn your face with its tear-stained cheeks to meet his. You find his brow furrowed, lips in a tight line of thought as he brushes your cheek and holds the warmth to your face. 

"The things I have seen you do, my love. The animal I have known and adored just the same as the tender and gentle soul that resides within you and it all astounds me. Your dual nature gives me hope that being hard and covered in blood isn't all my life may be. To have proof one can access such a broad range of emotions gives me a reason to believe there is more for me even when I am in doubt of it. The capacity for maternal love you hold was something I never expected in you."

"Having a child is a brutal and bloody business for a woman. You risk your life, you face unimaginable pain and gore just the same as coming by it through means of violence, you can come by it by means of love just the same."

"And you know of pain through violence, my love." he nods.

"Intimately."

"Do you wish to know of that pain through love, Genevieve? To bring a life into the world by blood instead of taking one out?" his brow shifts and he searching your face for answers. He holds his breath and he does not mean to. It was clear the art was working away at his emotions as well, forcing life's biggest questions out of him. 

You nod and let out a shaky exhale. "I do." you answer simply. You realize the weight that lifted off of you that you hadn't known was there dissipates as you openly admit it to another person. To say it so closely, and to the person you hoped you would be making the life with touches you both. You can both feel it, a heartbeat shared in tandem for a moment as it skips at the thought of creating another heartbeat to share outside yourselves. So many things that seemed out of reach to you both were now attainable things because you'd found each other. You lean in to kiss him, he tastes the salt of your tears on your lips. "Is that something you wish to create as well?" you ask with a weak voice.

"Because of you... with you... yes." the delicate up turning of your lips as he confessed his hidden and never before shared thoughts with you stirs something deep and rooted within in at his core. 

A tender and pure kiss, you place on his lips in repayment of the words you had spent so much time wondering if you'd ever hear from him.   
\-----  
Emerging from the stone rooms you feel the sun on your skin again as you take a deep breath of fresh air and have a good stretch, leaving the heaviness you felt as the emotions from the art weighed you down. You stand with your hands on your hips, looking about as Alfie adjusts his jacket. You suppose he too was dealing with the heaviness you felt. After all, you'd dealt with both topics of marriage and children today and so boldly and rather fearlessly for you both, the hangover from the intensity you shared when discussing deep topics. 

"Excuse me?" you hear from behind you, revealing a policeman standing with his hands behind his back and an unwelcome look on his face.

"Yes?" you ask, straightening your posture, not hiding your distaste for the look he had on his face. 

"I'm afraid your attire isn't legal in this city and I'm going to have to be placing you under arrest."

You openly laugh in his face and you feel the heat and power radiating off Alfie despite him being out of his jurisdiction. You hold your hand out behind you to signal him to stop, keeping your eyes on the man in front of you. 

"My attire?" you scoff.

"Yes, it is illegal for a woman to wear trousers. It gives way to transvestitism and the law doesn't support that sort of behavior."

"Your city is full of artists, darling, you do nothing but support it!" you laugh with your head back.

"You're under arrest miss for the trousers and the attitude will not be helping your case, come now." he says as he reaches for the metal cuffs.

"I think not." you say with a deeper tone, narrowing your eyes at him.

"I can make a scene miss, or you can come with me as a lady should." he says as you continue to take steps backward as he approaches you. 

"There will be a hell of a scene if you try and throw a Lafitte in jail." you say with a stubborn nod your head, your words strong and biting. 

The man stops, his head pushing back as he studies you. You knew he would know who your uncle was. And if he wasn't in a precinct that was under his pay, chances are he was one that still feared him and his power. 

"So you can leave me the fuck alone or I can call my uncle Altar from jail and have him come down and deal with you." you lean forward, hands on your hips and you stare into the man's uncertain eyes. 

"Your uncle?" he says not convinced. "He's not your uncle, who are you? I've never even seen you before." he says with a worse attitude than you had. 

"I'm Lilly Lafitte." you say crossing your arms across your chest, standing tall and taking a step towards him. "I've been living in London for years which is why you don't recognize me you pup." you say with a nod of your chin at the young man. 

"Lilly?" he says with a face showing clear confusion. "But she disappeared."

"And I've reappeared, dear." you state obviously. "My goy father tried to silence me and now I'm back in the light. You could take your chances but do you really want to risk angering Altar by bothering his favorite niece with something as stupid and pointless as this?" you bark back at him.

You see the thoughts running across the young man's face. You keep your stern face and confident body language. You knew young ones like him wouldn't believe a woman to lie, and you were using that to your advantage. 

"I won't arrest you." he says with narrowed eyes. "But may I ask that you change your attire? You're asking for trouble."

"You may ask but I will not respond in kind." you say with a purse of your lips. 

He nods and looks you over, an annoyed look on his face as he turns and leaves, mumbling to himself. 

"Fuck me, Genevieve," Alfie says gruffly. "Ya wanna make me think I'm gonna have to raise hands at a fuckin' French copper, love? Jesus." he says with a big roll of his eyes, lips pursed as he wags a finger at you as he speaks. "That was really fuckin' risky trying to pull the Lafitte name like that ya know?" he says with a scolding tone and a stern look on his face. 

"What risk?" you ask in an innocent tone. You tilt your head and soften your body language as you take slow steps back to him. "There is no risk." you say with a soft huff of a laugh and a shake of your head. 

"They could've taken you anyway and then where would you 'ave been, eh?" he says, leaning in close to your face as you stand only a breath away from him. 

"But I wasn't lying." you say with a slow blink of lash up at him in a calm voice. 

His chin pushes back into his neck, his brow shooting low just as fast. "You...weren't lyin'?" he clarifies with an angry but not aggressive stare. There's no way, he thinks.

"No." you state plainly, large eyes looking up at him as a smile slowly comes across your face. He really hadn't known. You thought in all the research he might've done that he would've heard of your old alias, the first real criminal work you'd done under the name Lily, the one your uncle gave you. And your uncle happened to be one of the most powerful Jewish men in France, at least when it came to the French mafia. Where had he thought you'd learned all your skills? Perhaps he'd never thought about your origins beyond what you'd shared with him. 

"You're..." he blinks rapidly, his brow shifting unevenly, his eyes darting about the street before returning to you with a quick shake of his head, clearly his brain was backfiring at the realization. 

"My first criminal alias was Lilly Lafitte." you say in a tone so casual he cannot understand why you are so cool in your delivery of the news. You place a hand on his chest to steady him. It'd been so long since you'd said the name, memories of museum and jewelry heists float about your mind in a warm and happy haze. 

"Ya fuckin' wot?!" he says loudly as you laugh quietly at his dumbfounded face. You loved the expression as it was so rare. "You? Standin' there? Fuckin' Lilly Lafitte?" he harshly whispers, trying to get a control on the volume of his voice. 

You nod and smile with a mischievous look he's seen before. 

"You're a fuckin' legend, mate." he groans out, eyes wide and brow low, studying you to find any fault as if you were lying to him. He'd heard of the young woman, rumored to work with the French gangster Altar Lafitte of the same name, who made her way through Paris stealing art and jewels in the least likely of places and never being caught. He'd thought Lily Lafitte would've been older, as the jobs and their tales would suggest someone of more experience might've done them. But no, he sighs, you've had it in your blood the entire time. Raised under the influence of a man even he looked up to for his business sense. "I used to tell stories 'bout you." he says with a strange feeling of lust coming over him. 

"A lot of Jewish boys did." you smirk.

"YOU are Altar fuckin' Lafitte's niece?" he asks with wild eyes and a crazed smile, scratching his head.

"Yes. He's the uncle I've spoken of on many occasions."

"Fuck me." he groans, shaking his head. "I've been with Lily fuckin' Lafitte." he says with a hard guttural laugh that makes him bend slightly, slapping his own knee. "If only I could've told me younger self about this. Well he wouldn't have fuckin' believed it but he'd like the fantasy I'm certain." he laughs heartily.

"And how does the fantasy live up to the reality love?" you coo. 

"No fuckin' comparison, you magnificent creature." he groans and leans in close. "As always you make my words ring true as you can only be outdone by yourself, eh?" a bright and boyish grin on his face down at you. 

You lean in to kiss him. What was meant as a treat for being so damned charming turns into his hands wrapped around you, picking you up slightly off the ground as he grunts into your neck, noisy kisses with his plush lips finding their way across your skin. You giggle and squirm under his touch, his beard tickling away at your ears as he mutters praise and disbelief. 

"Would you like to meet him?" you ask with an innocent lilt. 

"Meet... meet Altar? The fuckin' Jewish crime lord of Paris? Just fuckin'... meet him?" he says with a wide motion of his hand. "Pop is for tea like it's bloody Shabbat and we don't have a thing else to do?" he amuses himself and laughs.

"Yes, I could call him. He never minds when I drop by." you say with a shake of your head, once again your casual tone confounds him. 

"I'm with a woman who can "drop in" on Altar Lafitte and be welcomed," he says quietly, taking your face into his hands. "What did I ever do to deserve you?" he asks with a sweet and simple kiss, words muttered against your smiling lips. The business opportunity's now open to him scramble around in his brain. 

"You're Alfie fucking Solomons. That's what." you say with a doting smile as he growls and wraps you up in his arms, pressing his lips to yours as you kick your feet and wrap your arms around his neck and let out a happy squeal you don't recall ever having made before.


	62. This Feeling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song for the chapter is This Feeling by Alabama Shakes.   
> Genevieve takes Alfie to meet her infamous uncle, Altar. With heavy subjects on their mind and Altar's wisdom, both find themselves more certain of their feelings for each other than ever before.

In the early afternoon, you and Alfie make your way up to your apartment. The windows were now just cracked, the fireplaces roaring and the smell of bread being baked coming from the tall, light-colored open space. You tell Alfie to get some tea, giving him a kiss to his cheek before patting his bum and sending him into the kitchen before you trotted up the stairs with the purpose to call your uncle. 

You perch by the window, the sun warming you as you laid back into a plush chair in a beam of light like a cat. 

"Lafitte." you hear a familiar old voice, one of your uncle's closest business mates.

"Bonjour Reuben, it's Genevieve, is Altar available?"

"He's in his last meeting of the day, dear, is it urgent?"

 

"Oh, no I just needed to ask him a question."

"May I be of assistance?"

"I was curious if he had a free evening? I'm in Paris with a friend and would like to see him."

"Oh, he'll be thrilled. There's nothing in the diary, so no business."

"He has cut back hasn't he?"

"He's trying." he chuckles. 

"Will he be long I'd like to speak with him?"

"The men are leaving..." you hear a mumble voices. 

"I'll have him on in just a moment."

You hear a scuffle and watch the skyline as your feet tap to nothing in particular as your legs hang off the arm of the chair. 

"Is it true? Am I really going to see my lovely princess again so soon?" you hear in his warm, loud voice and you smile.

"If you have the evening free yes."

"For you, yes. You're much preferred to the company I was going to keep." he muses.

"Don't let me keep you from anything, I'll be in Paris for a few more days."

"No, no, come, please child. It was only a forced social call, you're doing me a favor by getting me out of it."

"Happy to help. I have someone I want to bring with me, if that's okay."

"Oh goodness."

"Don't."

"Oh, Lilly..." you hear the teasing in his voice.

"Uncle..." you draw out in a 'please don't' tone. 

"I know who you're here with!" he says in a playful way. "Last you were crying over him if I recall. First sad tears then happy. I'm assuming the tears have stopped or at the least remained happy."

"No tears as of late, and if they are they are from happiness yes." you smile. "We're here together, we've been together in an official capacity for a little while now."

"I know. You think I don't keep tabs on you?" he laughs. "You and a fellow Jewish gangster? Of course, I'm going to keep my ear to the ground on that. What could be more interesting?"

"Your own business?" you snark.

"HA!" you can picture his head thrown back in laughter. "I do hope he treasures that wit and humor of yours."

"He does. Which is one reason I'd like you to meet him. I know he'd love to meet you. In a personal and not business capacity this time. Plenty of time to talk business later, but tonight I'd just like my uncle to meet my potential future husband." it rolls off the tongue far more easily than you'd imagined it would.

"Oh my." he pauses. "You are serious, little one?"

"Very much so. We've had time alone here on holiday and it's only led to deeper conversations about our future as a team."

"A team? He must be as clever as I've heard he is to know he should think himself an equal to a woman like you." he says with a content tone. 

"If he did not you know I wouldn't have given him the time of day." you laugh.

"You are brilliant as always, Lilly. Would you like to come to my place? I can have dinner for us all. Would be no trouble at all."

"That sounds lovely, which place would you like to meet?"

"I've been staying at my country estate. Perhaps the scenery might be a source of romantic ambiance for you two." he chuckles.

"Perhaps." you sigh. "I'll have Benji bring us over near dusk. Don't embarrass me too much, please. I rather like this one."

"I'd never." he scoffs.

"You can be as stern as you'd like but play nice. Don't put him in a bad mood and ruin my evening." you laugh.

"Only a few stories from your childhood then."

"Don't make me regret this." you giggle.  
\----------

You see Alfie's hand clutching and regripping on the top of his cane so you know he's in thought and nervous.

"It'll be fine darling," you say, leaning in with a smile and taking his fidgeting arm into your grasp. "He'll love you I'm sure of it."

"Sorry, love. It innit really that I'm worried about," he says with a low brow. "Me brain is tellin' me I'm meetin' a powerful man for business, yeah? But I'm tryin' to tell it I'm not, then I think it's 'bout the equivalent of meetin' your father or somethin' of that nature, and I feel unprepared and me leg starts twitchin'."

"Perhaps all the walking today has your back acting up?" you offer with a chastizing smile he can't see as you rest your cheek on his arm. Even if he wouldn't admit he was nervous, you would've totally understood if he was. It wasn't only him meeting someone he respected, and those people were few and far between, it was him meeting your family. In your faith, these sorts of things weren't taken lightly and with the discussions of marriage earlier in the day you know he had to have it on his mind. Altar was a parent to you in your heart. He'd taken you in when no one else would and helped build and mend the damage George had caused. So Alfie was essentially meeting your family, and you felt far less nervous than you expected.

Parents typically were more involved in unions, as was tradition, but what you two had was far from textbook within the Jewish faith. Still, the involvement of others in your relationship, and one of such significance for you couldn't go overlooked by him. He had visions of discussing terms and conditions, lawyers and Rabbi's huddled over a ketubah and his intimidating, stand-in father-in-law supervising it all. Your sweet words of distraction calmed his worry and his overactive imagination. You cooed and told him how you thought Altar would like him as you took his fidgeting hand into yours and stroked his blemished skin to soothe him. He could take anything another man could throw at him, he figures. And he could take even more than that if it was for you. 

You feel the fluttering in your stomach, a happy nervousness you hadn't felt since you were a child as you stood in the foyer of Altar's country estate. Outside the city on a lovely green piece of land, a place you'd been so many times you couldn't count, sat a stone home covered in vines and surrounded by flowers and shrubbery. Alfie could see it's influence on you in the lavender in the garden and the fabulously ornate mezuzah by the door. 

Alfie is caught off guard by the informal and affectionate greeting you receive from two elderly house workers. Coos and kisses, squeezing you with closed eyes and smiles on their faces as they call you by your Hebrew name given to you by your mother. This is the first Alfie has heard of this name and is touched by your mother's will to have you named in such a way despite your father's clear refusal of expressing your heritage.

"Chanah?" he whispers as you walk together down the cozy halls of dark wood floors and stucco walls. 

"Yes?" you ask, turning your face his way, the happiness from the reunion of childhood caretakers still on your face. 

"Which name is this now?" he asks with wandering eyes about the space. 

"My middle name my mother gave me. They called me that here as a child when I was alone without my siblings, they never missed an opportunity to remind me of where I came from once they found out I'd learned of my mother's secret."

"These people are lovely," he says with a warm and even tone. "So is the name Chanah, my love." you give him a soft smile, pressing a kiss to his cheek when you were left alone as they checked to make sure Altar was ready to receive you. His sweet little Chanah, he thought, feeling his heart stutter at the thought you having a Hebrew name to call you by. You were shaping up to be the perfect woman, the perfect wife for a man like him. His beloved as strong as her namesake, he muses. He's still looking at the beaming but reserved joy exuding from your face as heavy footsteps meet the other side of large white double doors. He feels you squeeze his hand and his gaze is torn from you from the loud and loving voice of your uncle. 

He could tell by the way he held himself that in his youth he must've been a true force to be reckoned with. Alfie figures he must've been near sixty years of age, the grey scattered about his hair starting to overtake the darkness of his youth. Much like Alfie, his presence filled a room and burst it at the seems with charisma and demanding energy. He wore a black kippah, covering greying hair that was otherwise as dark as yours. You had the same dark eyes, deeper set and intense under full brows with skin the same lovely tan, olive tone. He really could have passed for your father. His features were markedly more masculine of course, a strong nose over smiling lips, a thick beard covering a clear squared and strong jaw. He wore clothes very similar to Alfie's although he was in a much more casual form of dress with a simple white shirt and trousers as opposed to Alfie's layers of vests and jacket. 

"My perfect bubbeleh (little doll)! Shyane Maidel (pretty maiden, a term of endearment usually used by older family members)! My darling niece, how are you?" he says with a strain to his voice as he holds you tight and groans as he lifts your feet off the floor. Alfie can't help but smile, seeing that contrary to the dim portrait you'd painted of life with your biological father, that you had known love from this man and your mother's family clearly and he found himself wanting to thank Altar for giving you the love you deserved.

"Oh Uncle, you mensch (man, one who represents the finest qualities of humanity), you flatter me." she says, kissing his cheek and holding his face with both hands. "I am splendid." you say, patting his cheek. 

"And would you like to introduce me to your zeeskeit (sweetie/honey)?" he grins, eyebrows wiggling as he grins and nods his head in Alfie's direction. He was relieved to hear he seemed to be treating him as a friend and not a fellow criminal. 

"This is, of course, my darling, Alfie Solomons of Camden Town." you coo, walking back over and taking his arm as the older man take steps towards him with a large, outstretched hand and Alfie faces him with a mirrored stick straight posture and raised chin. "Alfie this is my incorrigible Uncle, Altar Lafitte." you grin and chuckle. 

"Shalom, Mr. Alfie Solomons." Altar says with a warm and friendly lilt that makes you breath out a sigh of relief. 

"Aleichem Shalom, Mr. Lafitte. Please, call me Alfie."

"And call me Altar." he says with a grin. "I would say my little Lilly here introduced me to you, but it would be daft of us to pretend we didn't know who the other was, wouldn't it?" he chuckles.

"I'm inclined to agree." he nods and glances over to you. "If it would be alright to speak in an informal sense? I don't mean to show offense to the family of my beloved here."

"Of course, I insist. Damned with formalities, tonight. We aren't businessmen here now are we? We're just two men who happen to love this brilliant woman." he says, leaning forward towards you as you smile sheepishly. "I do have to admit, I was rather surprised to hear she was with someone."

"I was as surprised as anyone else." Alfie jokes with that charming grin you loved to see when he was being social. 

Altar laughs and nods your way. "She will keep you guessing and on your toes, won't she?" he chuckles. 

"That she does." 

"I am elated to hear she has chosen to be with someone in our line of work. And the more I learned about you, the more impressed I was with her decision making. Not that I ever doubted it." he says with a comforting glance. "But you, Alfie, you are a real tzutzik (ambitious person) and mighty clever if the stories I have heard are indeed true."

"I will gladly agree if given the chance." he grins.

"HA!" Altar says, reaching over and patting Alfie's arm. "I see why you like this one," he says in a sneaky tone, leaning your way but his words were clearly not meant to be a secret. "Come! Let's eat and talk and rejoice in this joyous occasion!" he begins, turning to move down the corridor. "It's not every day our precocious Lily brings someone home to us." he begins. "In fact, she has never brought anyone home to us." he chuckles. "So we must break out the good celebratory wine tonight!" he declares loudly to no one in particular. 

You squeeze Alfie's arms and wrinkle your nose at him to let him know everything was going swimmingly. He gives you a cock of his head and a shrug and a hopeful glance that things would continue down such a path.   
\---------------

The damage to your ego from Altar's stories is nominal. He sticks to tales from your childhood and you're grateful. Tellings of your free and naive escapades amuse Alfie more than he could've imagined, the tales giving way to the birth of your nickname, Lily. It was given after Lillith of course, and only in a heartfelt way as your uncle sang the praises of your wildness as a child. Always rough and mischievous, fighting with the boys and never turning down a dare when you stayed with him. He speaks of the almost altar ego of yourself when you were with your father's family, your prim and proper, clean and soft-spoken nature he'd forced you into. It upset Altar to see you forced into a role you didn't naturally come into and he made it a point to never stifle your chaotic energy. Thus, under his guidance after being exiled from your family's home, you embraced your true nature and became a thief, and Lily Lafitte was born. 

Alfie spoke of his own gangster birth lightly. He glanced over how the war and its violence changed him, finding his knack for it in the trenches. His formal education served him well, being promoted up to Captain as more and more men fell, leaving a scrubby boy from London with a smart mouth and quick wit fit for such a position despite his lack of upper class raising as was usual for someone in the position. His knowledge of the common man and his struggles made it easy to form a sense of solidarity among the Jews in Camden and with his men in the field, finding the lack of young men in the area after the war a space that needed filling and he took control over his slice of London piece by piece with the cooperation of fellow schoolmates from before the war and the common thread of heritage and religion that bound together his people and community. Altar nodded and listened, fully invested in learning more about his possible future nephew in law. He sees he was smart, successful and had a brutal hand as was needed in their sort of life. He believes him to be suited for you, as he wanted someone to be able to look after you after he was gone. And this Alfie Solomons seemed a man fit to take on the task, he had the money and the power and those two things when used well could take the both of you far together. He could see the glances, the small, polite but meaningful touches and how he said your name when he told stories of your jobs together. Altar could very clearly see you loved each other, despite your attempts at hiding it for the sake of manners. Your nonverbal and ease of communication was clear to him, finishing each other's thoughts and interjecting on stories without so much as an overstepping of the pace of conversation. 

"As much as I have enjoyed your company tonight, the night is dragging on and I don't want to keep you two too terribly long...would you be so kind as to give me some time alone with my Lily? I have some things to speak to her about that require discretion." Altar says with a kind nod.

"Oh, no, of course." Alfie says pushing back his chair. 

"Have Rada show you the library, darling, you'll adore it." you say with a soft smile his way.

He leans in to kiss your cheek. "Come find me when you need me, eh?" he says with a gentle caress of your upper back. "Altar, may I speak with you again before we depart?"

"Yes! Certainly." he says with a warm smile.

"I will see you shortly then." he says with a slight bow as he leaves the room. 

You move to the seat closest to your Uncle and scoot it even closer. 

"Oh, my little one..." he says with a broad grin, shaking his head. "Are you sure you have not come to tell me you've secretly married? Or perhaps you are with child?" he suggests with a deep chuckle.

"Neither," you respond back with a bashful smile. "What did you think of him, Uncle?" you ask in a whispered voice, eyelashes batting in anticipation.

"Well he certainly is very in love with you isn't he?" he says in a teasing tone. "I won't pry too much into your personal affairs, but would you grant an old man his wishes of knowing when you knew?"

"Knew what precisely?"

"Don't be silly, my sweet, when he told you he loved you." he chuckles

The flush comes across your face. "Oh." your lashes flutter. "Well we haven't'... exactly don't that." you say with a low brow.

"You are joking." he insists. "There is no way you haven't, surely. A blind man could see with the way you look at each other."

"I'm not joking." you shake your head and purse your lips. "I know I should. I've just been intimidated to do so to be perfectly honest."

"Things that you fear are usually things worth doing and conquering. It's what makes the struggle worth it."

"I believe him to be withheld due to my previous lack of enthusiasm about such things. I do not still hold those beliefs but I think he's only trying to be gentle."

"I won't fault him for handling you with care. But you two do not act like people who haven't shared confessions of love, dearest. You act like two very, very old friends who know each other most intimately."

"We have been through more than most that have been married for longer than we've been alive." you chuckle. "We've only been together some short months, but we've been close for a year now."

"That is not what I meant," he says simply. "I believe you to be old souls. I suspect this isn't your first go-round together."

"This really the time to be taking a piss, Uncle?" you say with a scolding glance.

"I'm serious." he says with high brows. 

How was Altar, the man who would tease you when he'd find your nose buried in your bubbies old books, full of recipes with no explanation as to how to they worked, but they always did? He would be sure to reign in only your tendency to be very whimsical, telling you, you were acting like your grandfather, who was known to live in the clouds and not among the rest of men, making poor heartfelt decisions that ultimately lead to his demise. How was he suggesting such a blush-inducing idea as to you having such a connection to Alfie? 

He leans in closer, elbow resting on the table as he speaks quietly. "You are in love with the man aren't you?"

You take a deep breath and nod. "Yes."

"Terribly so?"

"Disorientingly so." you chuckle and sigh.

"But you say your fear of expressing such things is in the past? And yet you do not tell him? Despite speaking of marriage?"

"He has taken the fear from me when it comes to such things. It was as if I had no choice," you speak softly and he sees your eyes far away in thought and it warms his heart. "He not only says the sweetest words, but he also follows them with actions that reflect the same."

"And did you leave him with any choice in falling for you?" he grins.

You think about how you'd gotten to this point. How despite his best efforts he couldn't bring himself to live without you. He'd told you he needed you. And a man like Alfie Solomons didn't need anything. He was a singular force that was self-sufficient. But there you were, bringing the titan to his knees and unintentionally so. But perhaps the same could be said for you of him. You loved him and you acted on it so naturally, you didn't even think twice about it. You did it without thinking despite what you'd told yourself for years of being bad at loving people in a romantic way. Your paths crossed by fate, and with extraordinary circumstances, you'd found yourselves forced together. By simply being around each other you had fallen in love. There was no trying to it, it happened and you certainly hadn't meant for it to. Perhaps Altar was right. You try to open your heart to the whimsical notion. Your lives couldn't be whole without the other now, left with no choice but an empty life and broken hearts if you fought against the natural magnetizing you had to each other. 

"He told me I did not." you lower your head and look away, a slow realization coming across your face. 

"Then what other conclusion is there my sweet child?"

You gulp and look back to him, a veil of tears over your eyes. "I am so dangerously in love with him, Uncle." you rasp out so you don't start crying. 

"And you have been given a gift. So few know this." he touches your chest. "So few feel something like this, ever," he whispers back, wiping away a tear that escapes. "And he loves you. I can read men, my dearest and that man is yours as much as he is his own."

You nod and take his hand and kiss it, placing it in your lap. "I'll tell him." You nod and sniffle. "I'll tell him tonight," you say with more conviction. "I don't need to fear something that feels so right. I see that now. I thought for so long it didn't exist I..." you shake your head. "I'd given up."

"And that was when he came into your life, yes?"

You nod and smile.

"And isn't that how it is foretold?"

You nod more enthusiastically and he leans in and kisses your forehead.

"That's my girl," he says patting your cheek. "You tell him tonight." he taps the bulb of your nose. "You tell him and revel in his reciprocation and wake up two souls in love. A rare, rare blessing. One I would venture to guess is a personal gift from God to you both. I've never seen you look so happy, bubbelah."

"I've never been so happy." you wipe your tears and he leans back in his chair. "Hopefully I am capable of learning my lesson and it won't be another year before we get married." you laugh and Altar lets out a comforting rumble of a noise.

"With the I love you's said I doubt you'll be able to wait that long." he pats your knee. "Once you find that someone it is hard to want to wait to have them all to yourself."

"And you do like him? You approve?"

"You have my complete support. I dare say he reminds me of a younger me. Perhaps more violent, but the world today calls for such things for people like us. He doesn't keep his life secret from you as I can see, and with you being just as ruthless I see no reason you couldn't make this work. With your sharp minds and fierce fists, you would make some fearsome children." he chuckles. 

"Oh my, they would be hellions." you laugh. 

"And you would deserve every bit of the pain and joy that is raising a child for what I put up with, with you." he teases. 

"I hate to say that I entirely agree."   
\---------------------------

Alfie is alone in the library, looking through old religious texts, thoroughly impressed with the collection Altar kept in the room of ceiling-high bookshelves. He places the book back and walks over the large window in the light colored room. The sun has set and left lovely deep tones across the sky. He thinks about you and what it is you two are talking about in the other room. His natural curiosity wants to try to eavesdrop but he won't be disrespectful in the house of a Lafitte. Although he had checked all the drawers in the room and found them to be locked. Old habits die hard. 

It dawns on him, the magnitude of the situation he finds himself in. In the house of Altar Lafitte for starters is not something he ever thought he'd say. He wasn't in his office in the city where he conducted business, he was in his country home, unattended in his library. What a strange place to be, he muses. And even stranger beyond that was his reason for being there. Unknowingly to him, he had somehow managed to meet, befriend, seduce and fall for the niece of a crime kingpin. Altar was a big name in the French Mafia, any Jew in the crime world knew the name, he ran the biggest city in France. He realizes with your level of skill and clear knowledgeable training that he should've assumed you had some sort of background such as this. But the blood of a Lafitte in your veins, a name feared and respected through Europe...he hadn't expected that. 

He thumbs his nose, eyes unfocused and posture slack as he gets lost in his thoughts. He's mulling over how confusingly perfect you are for him. Neither of you was without your faults, and he didn't have the illusion that you were indeed without any flaws, same as him. But the way your paths aligned, the roads that led you both to the point where they intersected seemed to be rather fateful. He looks up at the moon, his lips in a tight line, wondering if anyone could hear his musing of cosmic interference in his life. He wasn't entirely unimportant, but he was just a man, after all. Why would he be given a blessing like you? A fucking sodomite and murderer given the chance to know love like this. You were the only wholesome and pure thing in his life, and every time he thought about it he felt fearful of losing you. A beautiful flower had no business rooting and blooming in the bog that was his life. His chest aches at the thought of losing you, it throbs with how much love it holds for you. He felt so full it traveled up to his brain and made me feel rather thick at times. As if you'd grown like a fungus and overtaken his common sense. What else would explain his musings of you being his b'sheret?

He lets out a heavy sigh. His sweet Chanah. His crime heiress, self-made woman, gangster queen. He was hopeless, wasn't he? And how could he not be for a woman that felt tailor-made for him. You cracked him open and left him raw in a way he hadn't felt since the war. Before it was the only thing that had scared him, but now a man, certain in himself and his life, he felt fear again and you were the source. Before you he was a singular person, he had only to worry about himself ultimately, but now he was given a whole other human to take into consideration. Someone just as complex as he. He found himself more worried about losing you than losing himself now, and that honestly put a bit of fear into him as it was the first time in his life he'd felt such a strong urge, a pull to rely on another person in such a way. You made him feel like a child, like he wasn't in control of himself or what he did, following your skirt because he loved you and for no other reason. And if there were, no other reasons mattered. He plans to tell you these things, and soon. He notices the stars clear and bright, twinkling with enthusiasm for the full moon in the sky. Perhaps tonight, he thinks, his bottom lip pushed up in consideration under his mustache. He was certain he loved you, and such feelings deserved to be acted upon and shared when they involved someone else. You certainly deserved the honesty from him. If you spoke of weddings and babies with boldness, there was no need to fear saying the words that should've come first the whole time. It was time to finally brush away that last bit of you that held on in fear of love. He wanted to prove to you and himself that there was no reason for you to be afraid if you were both in this together. 

He hears the door crack open, your wide blinking eyes meeting his as your head peeps into the room. "He's finished interrogating me." you giggle. "You wanted to speak with him, darling?" you ask with such a warm smile he practically floats to it to simply be in its presence. 

"I did." he says with a nod, pulling you into the room by the wrist. "Are you ready to leave? Or would you like to stay?" he asks quietly, hand brushing your hair out of your face. 

"I'd love to go back to the apartment and spend the night with my handsome man." you coo with a playful smile.

"Just so happens I would love nothing more than to accommodate that wish." he chuckles, leaning in to give you a brief kiss. "Is he in the dining room still?"

"No, his study, it's two doors past the dining room. He's in there waiting." 

"Let's not keep the legend waiting then, eh?" he smiles. 

"Would you like me to accompany you?"

"No, thank you love, I wanted to conclude the visit with an invitation for business in the future, you go ready that young pup to take us back, eh?"

"I'll tell him, I'll wait in the parlour." you say sweetly, holding his hand until the distance growing between the two of you separates you as he walks down the hall.

"'Ello." Alfie says, entering the room and clearing his throat. 

"Bonjour." Altar says happily. "You did say you wanted to speak again, yes? Or is my mind farther gone than I know?" he chuckles.

"Absolutely not, steel trap that, mate." he grins. 

"And what can I help you with Alfie?" he says, hands coming together in front of him in the large chair by the fire.

Alfie sits next to him on a matching chair, angled towards each other and Altar hears him swallow and holds back a smile.

"I was wondering if you had a moment to talk about Genevieve?" he forces the words out.

"Always. Anything for my Lily. Is something the matter?"

"Oh no, no." he shakes his head. "For once, the opposite." he gives a closed mouth smile. 

"Lovely then." Altar sits back and waits, giving the man a minute. He wasn't into betting but at that moment he would have on what words would come out of his niece's love's mouth next. 

"I wanted to speak with you about...making Genevieve my wife."  
\-----------------------------  
You stroll happily to the phone room, having told Benji to ready the car already. You call up your apartment and are met with a cheerful voice. 

"Bonjour!"

"Bonjour, Yoni. It's Genevieve of course, Alfie and I are to be leaving Altar's country estate soon and I had a few requests. Should have time to accommodate them before we get there."

"Yes, madam, how may I help?"

"I'd like you to make a few...romantic adjustments to the apartment please."

"Romantic?" she giggles.

"I figure why let the boys do all the romancing, I want to make a statement tonight." you say with your back straight and a hopeful smile on your face. 

\---------

You anxiously await Alfie by the front door, your hands clasped and picking at your nails as you stare up into the night sky and fantasize about what you might do or say. Everything felt rather jumbled in your head but, you hoped your heart would help you make sense of it when the time came.   
You're in the middle of pondering playing him something, as you hadn't before and thought perhaps showing him a bit of yourself he hadn't seen yet might be a good gesture of romance. Then he appears from the hallway, your Uncle surprisingly behind him, a hand on his back. 

"Did we play well boys?" you ask with a bright smile. 

"Certainly did." Altar answers with a smile that looks similar to yours. "Good man you've chosen here, my sweet bubbeleh."

"I like to think so." you chuckle as he walks towards you and takes your hand and raises it to his lips. 

"If it weren't for your influence on her, I wouldn't have such a Aishet Chayil (woman of valor) to call my own."

"Alfie." you say blushing, and wrinkling your nose.

"It is only the truth, my oytser (love of my life)." he coos at you and you feel the heat flush your chest as you let out a small giggle of surprise at the affection in front of your uncle. 

You bat your eyes in surprise and look away as his lips press against your knuckles. "Who do I thank for this doting man you've sent back to me, Uncle?" you chuckle.

"Only yourself, Lily." he says as watches the look on your eyes as Alfie leans in to gently kiss your cheek. Altar can not only see the love on your face for this man, but he can feel it as he hears sighs and giggles he's never heard before from you in all your years of life. He felt confident in his discussion with Solomons that the feelings of adoration between the two of you were mutual. He was looking forward to having a firm grip on London after the two of you were married. It would, of course, be his little Lily that brings his personal life such joy now, and bringing together both opening and closing to a chapter in his business life with a new alliance in London with his future nephew-in-law.


	63. Gimme all your love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song is Gimme All Your Love by Alabama Shakes.  
> NSFW. The big 'I love you's'. FLUFFFFFFF

There's something different between the two of you, you can both feel it. Something in the air around you as you pet and kiss, the ride back to Paris going by so fast as you'd been lost in each other the entire time. You open the door to your apartment and the crisp but not cold air of the night is moving through the tall rooms from opened windows, the sheer white curtains billowing in the Parisian breeze.

With all of the electricity off in the apartment, tall candelabra's stand in corners, lit and flickering across the space, the warm tones mixing with the cool colors of moonlight through the tall windows, reflecting off the white walls. Debussy plays on a record player, the soft and calming tones of Clair de lune twinkling through the air. Expensive wine and his white rum sit in an ornate ice bucket on the table in the center of the room, a shorter and matching candelabra next to it, fresh flowers billowing out over a crystal vase beside it. 

You stand and take in the ambiance, exactly as you'd wanted. You take a deep breath and try to imprint this electricity you felt in the air into your mind. This would surely make for good painting inspiration later. You hear Alfie's footsteps stop behind you.

He narrows his eyes as they wander around the room before landing on you, seeing you let out a heavy sigh. "What's this, love?" he asks, closing the space between you. "What are you doin'?" he asks in a soft but vaguely suspicious way.

You turn swiftly to face him, your face illuminated by the low light of the room as you gesture towards the open windows. "We're in Paris. I thought if I didn't do something romantic it would've been missed opportunity for being dramatic." you give a coy smile.

"Never pass up an opportunity for that, it suits you too well, Genevieve." he grins and a low chuckle rumbles out of him as he looks down at you. 

"I'm not good at being romantic but I'm...I'm trying." you say with hopeful eyes, batting up at him.

"You only think you're not good at it because you're so naturally oozing of romance that trying to be romantic is pointless seeing as you already are and it confuses you because you're trying to be something that you already are." he says in a grand, sweeping words, closing the space between you and placing his hand on your lower back, speaking closely to your face. 

"That would explain your sweetness then." you coo, a slight wrinkling of your nose up at him. 

"Nah, I'm afraid it's only natural where you're concerned sweetheart." he leans into you for a brief kiss. "And only then because you have such a twisted notion as to what constitutes as sweet." he chuckles and brushes his nose against yours to tease you.

You let out a soft laugh, putting your hand to his face to sweep your thumb across the planes of his cheek. "Good for me then, yes? No other woman will ever find you sweet and therefore I get to keep you all to myself." you coo at him, your hand falling slowly from his face, fingers tracing over his beard before you rest it on his chest.

"See, that's romantic innit? But what would romance be from you without the vague underlying tone of a threat." he smiles and kisses you as you both hum and titter at his teasing.

"It would seem as if we're made for each other aren't we?" you whisper, feeling the soft bristle of his beard against your lips as you place a soft kiss the corner of his. 

The weight of the statement is purposeful for you and you believe you see it in his eyes that he knows it as well. There is no fear in your stare as your eyes flutter and move over his face. Both your expression soft and unfiltered, he closes his eyes for a moment and hums, a small nod of agreement before opening them again. 

"And I do not plan on ever takin' the gift for granted again." his eyes dark as his hand reaches to your face, another soft and gentle kiss. "Noadnu lihiyot yakhad, Chanah. (We were meant to be together, Chanah)." 

His sweet words you almost understood, the importance of them being in Hebrew and being called by your name of the same makes your stomach flutter with your lashes. "I got most of that." you admit and a bashful smile comes across your face and he lets out a loud laugh, pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

"I forget you are still a student." he says apologetically, beaming down at your in amusement. 

"Say it again. I'll get it." you request with a nod.

"Noadnu lihiyot yakhad." he says slowly, every tensing of his throat and click of his tongue announced as he speaks clearly and with purpose, his nose once again brushing against yours, keeping your bodies close, not breaking the connection between you. 

"Ken. (yes)" You say with a smile, lips to lips. "It would seem as if we are meant to be together wouldn't it?" 

"What an apt pupil," he says without condescension. "You are picking up on it quickly aren't you little Chanah?" he gives you a slight squeeze. "But why would you not? A brilliant creature you are."

"I hope to have my bat mitzvah within a year. I'm certainly trying to learn quickly, but I will admit it's complicated."

"It can be yes. But I have no doubts in your abilities, my love." he smiles proudly, a kiss to your cheek in support of his words. "And after that, you will be able to understand all the sentiments I wish to pour upon you. Everything a Jewish woman could ever wish to hear. I'll speak them all to you." he purrs, lips brush against your cheek and moving to your jaw, making you sigh as the sweet talk hits your ears and causes you to shudder. "Mea levavot ihiyu meat midai kdei lehakhil et kol ha ahava sheli elaikh. (A hundred hearts would be too few to carry all my love for you)." he whispers, lips moving to your neck, pecking kisses across your throat as he speaks. "Milim lo yekholot letaer et ha ahava sheli elekha. (Words can't describe my love for you.) Ata kol kakh khashuv li (You mean so much to me). Ani ohev otkha (I love you)." the words rush out him, telling you things he longs for you to understand. Some you might've been able to decipher if he'd spoken slower, but it's as if your heart swells with every pop of his lips against your skin. Only your Alfie could say things you couldn't understand and still bring you to your knees. 

"You're making me dizzy, darling." you mutter, head lolled back in his hand at the back of your neck. "I don't understand you but I believe I feel the sentiment all the same," you whisper as he kisses his way back to your lips. "How is a woman suppose to be able to withstand such a ravishing with words from your delicious mouth, Alfie?" you hum contently. 

"At kol kakh yafa. (You are so beautiful)." he says with a slow-growing smile, his eyes almost sleepy as his fingers trail through the loose hair at the nape of your neck. 

"You make me weak with your words in a way no other man can." 

"And I will make it so no other man ever has the chance."

"I am yours, love, you should have no doubt." you say sweetly. 

"How can I not doubt something as good as you happening to a man like me my love?" he says sincerely, with a shake of his head.

"But I am only yours, never lack confidence in that fact." you say with a tender smile. "I long to convince you of your worth, mon Fie. For you to see it as clearly as I." you whisper, your fingers delicate across his skin, your eyes with a hint of sadness at his disbelief. "I'd like to share a piece of myself with you that I haven't before tonight, darling. That's what I wanted tonight to be about." you give him a nod of enthusiasm." I wanted you to have me, the whole me in ways no one else has or ever will." you say with bright eyes that penetrate down to his bones with their emotion and honesty. "That's why I had to the maids leave for the night. It's the cause for the candles, the drink, the music. I've never tried to show someone how much I care for them." you say, turning out of his grasp as you spoke, motioning to the table behind you. "But upon deep reflection, I've found that is only so because I have not felt this way about anyone before," you say in a faint voice that lures him closer to the table with you. "Would you open this for me, darling?" you ask, passing him a bottle. "I'd prefer to change into something more comfortable. This modest dress feels constricting and I want to feel free and flowing tonight with you. I have much to share and I don't want any confines between us, not even of my dress."

"I'm surprised you haven't changed already. You never have been much for something understated. I look forward to whatever form you chose to grace me with tonight." he beams, a simple kiss to your lips before you fall back and ascends the stairs. 

He looks down at the bottle in his hands only after you are out of sight. It was a bottle of his white rum. He tilts his head in consideration of it being there. He certainly didn't bring it and there was nowhere he knew of to get it in Paris. He hadn't seen you pack any, but then again, you had many trunks and perhaps he just hadn't seen them all. He uncorks it, a special brew he'd made in smaller batches, as he pours a glass for you. He decides to follow your lead, making himself comfortable. He takes off his jacket and vest, letting his braces hang loosely at his sides like he knows you like, unbuttoning a few buttons on his shirt and having a good stretch as he looks out into the night sky with the bright moon cresting over the tower in the distance. 

"Thank you." he hears softly from the table as he turns to see you picking up the glass and taking a drink. 

You were a lovely fever dream to him as always. Something unreal and almost intangible, feeling as if he tried to touch you, you might vanish into nothing and he would realize you had only been a dream, a fantasy of womanhood he longed to know. As he returns to your side, a hand sliding across your upper back you smile at him over the edge of the glass, finding relief that you were real after all. 

You wear one of the things you'd picked out at the boutique, a long and sheer robe of billowing fabric and long wide sleeves that touch the ground in a light pink color. Your dress itself a deep maroon, lace at its hems, hitting above your knee and tight around your full chest as all things you wore were. Your hair is now loose, fully down from the barretts you'd had in it and wild once again. It falls to your lower back and past your breasts, your skin looking pale against it in the cool-toned light of the moon from the windows. The softness the flickering flames from the decorative candelabras give you a glow that he cannot explain. With your lipstick gone, only the soft pinky flesh tone left to adorn the pouting lips. Your large dark eyes were framed with long lashes that cast shadows across your cheeks, even though he was touching you most certainly, his other hand now twisting a piece of your hair in his fingers, he couldn't help but muse the fact that you still might be a glorious hallucination. 

"You look like a dream, my love." he tells you. "I feel compelled to touch you to know that you are in fact real."

You lean up to kiss him, he can taste the rum on your lips. "I do hope I am not a dream, for to think of existing without you when you wake is far too painful a fate a bare." you sigh, your finger running across his full bottom lip. "You as always are my perfect portrait of masculinity and its charms." you let out a soft chuckle and a warm smile appears across his face. "The candlelight loves you, Fie. I shall have to capture you in paint like this one day. It's too sublime to not commemorate."

"Is the rum already in effect?" he lets out a deep chuckle against your cheek, kissing you gently. 

"Don't be daft my silly man. You should know I find you to be own personal Adonis. I shall make a point to show you how much I adore your physical vessel. But only after I tell you how much I adore your mind." you pat his cheek. 

"What sweet words from you tonight Genevieve. Did you slip them in along with this?" he asks, picking up the rum bottle and setting it back down, grinning and pushing your hair from your face. 

"I had this from my last trip here."

"You brought it with you?"

"I always bring your rum when I travel." you state obviously and he tilts his head in wonder. 

"We were not speaking last you came here." he points out.

"I'm aware," you say with a single nod. "Doesn't mean I didn't miss you." you say with kind eyes. "It reminds me of you when you're away. It's what I drink when you aren't with me. I can pretend to have a tiny bit of you beside me if I have this." you raise the glass. "I can at least recall what you smell like after coming home from work if nothing else."

"Even though we were apart?" he asks with confusion reading on his face. "Even though I had acted in such an unacceptable way towards you?"

"Yes." you answer simply. 

"Genevieve you are not human. How can you hold such a capacity for forgiveness for a bastard like me? I don't deserve such consideration...for a goddess like you to yearn for me in such a way."

"The heart wants what the heart wants, Alfie. You know as well as I do that you can't control it." you whisper and smile, patting his cheek and moving away from him to the piano. You move the switch from the player against the wall between the windows and move to the bench. He watches you, eyes never leaving you as you moved. "Would you have a seat darling?" you ask, your hand out the armchair facing the piano. "I want to play something for you." you add in an almost shy way. 

"I thought you hated playing piano?" he questions, sitting and leaning forward, elbows on his knees towards you. 

"I love it. I only hated my teacher." you correct. "After you left I picked it back up. It was one of the things I used to distract myself. There was one piece of music I played most frequently, and I'd like to play it for you."

"Of course." he says softly. 

"I've never played in front of anyone on my own accord before."

"And I am flattered you would offer to show me." he responds with a nod. 

"I wanted to give you something that I've never given to anyone else. And I wanted to show you something that touched me deeply...to share my art with you. You've seen my paintings but, you haven't seen me do this." you nod curtly and graze your fingertips over the keys. "Only second to you, art is what moves my heart in such profound ways. Joining the two seemed to only make sense."

"And all of my senses are yours for the performance." he replies with a charming smile. 

"I wanted to play Moonlight Sonata. Are you familiar?"

"Only slightly. " he says with a shake of his head. 

"Good. You can see it through fresh eyes." you straighten your posture and place your feet. "This piece reminded me of you, and somehow it expresses what I felt after you left, but also how I feel with you now. Something that moved me from sadness from your departure. Now it reminds me of you for other reasons, the intensity representing love instead of sadness, an understated happiness showing through something dark such as the danger of our lives. So..." you clear your throat. "This is for you." you whisper before taking a deep breath, not watching his face as his eyes went soft, taking in the image of you backlit by the moon in your gown. Looking much like an angel. 

A simple a solemn build, playing with your eyes closed begins. He watches you unravel over the keys, shoulders pressing and shifting, giving yourself over the music. Seeing you in action was something new. He could see the aftermath of emotion with a painting but seeing you physically engage in your expression was an entirely new beast altogether. The music was low and slow, rising and falling your head nodding and shaking as it did. He could see your brow furrow with every low note, your eyes roll under their lids with every high one. The delicate notes contorting your face, a slight snarl of lip as he watched your walls fall away and he was left watching something raw. It was quickly apparent to him this wasn't about showing off a skill you possessed. Your words beforehand were a prologue to the story you were trying to tell him with your fingers. Your control and reserve are gone, something only fueled by emotion, by what he see's as love for the art and for him. You were delivering as advertised, giving him a piece of you no one else had. He wants to return the gesture, and knows only through a showing of his own vulnerability will he be able to repay you. Should he lay himself at your feet? Should he shout off the balcony about how much he loved you? Give you monologues of Shakespeare and tell you how he very well might die if you ever parted? He's left feeling raw and overflowing, enraptured by your show of yourself to him. 

You end with the repeating chords, your eyes fluttering open as you return to your body. You sit back, hands in your lap, reserved and slightly drained for a moment. 

"Seeing a work of art perform a piece of art is something I have not even thought of until tonight," he whispers, as your head raises, looking to him with large dark eyes. "You do give yourself fully to the things you love don't you?" his tone still delicate and face thoughtful as he rose, extending his hand out to you. 

You take it and blink slowly, still in a haze. "I see no other way to make life worth living." you respond simply. 

"And that is what I have been missing isn't it? A passion?" he takes you into the frame of the window, holding you against him, a hand in your hair, smoothing the soft waves as they'd become displaced in your passionate display. "You live with such heart. You feel so intensely for things that most cannot even comprehend or appreciate. You are the most fascinating thing I have come across in all my years. And I have sought out the interesting, the clever and the peculiar. And all for selfish reasons of bettering myself. But you...you Genevieve....my Chanah. You are anything but ordinary. There is not a hair on your head that is simple in its existence. There has never been a word that has crossed your lips that I have not had to revisit and ponder over. But you, even at your least graceful you are such a spectacle of God's creation that I myself am made anew in my faith and in awe of the possibilities that you bring to my life with every breath. You without knowing have charmed me to the point of hopelessness that I should ever be able to function without knowing your grace intimately. Even within your deepest faults, you are perfect to me. And I am a man that does not believe in perfection. But I was also a man that did not believe in love, not truly until I was made aware of your existence. You, without trying, changed the man I am. I cannot be the same after knowing you. I do not want to be the man I was before you, you have touched the deepest recesses of my mind that others have cowered from. You are truly the sun for what was an endless night before. How can a man go back into the cold darkness after knowing the warmth and light of the sun that you exude so effortlessly? You have taken up permanent residence in my mind, my heart....my soul. I do not wish you to ever part from me." he takes your hand from your side, limp and in awe of the words that were worthy of poetry in your eyes, and all of them meant for you. He holds your hand on his chest, covering it with his own.

"Alfie." you barely mutter in awe.

"Even my name is something I have learned to love simply by hearing your voice speak it." he whispers, leaning in closer. 

"You say all these things. All these priceless things I could have never dreamed of hearing from another. But do you know how you complete me, Alfie? Truly?"

"I did not believe I was half before you. I was unaware of the emptiness I held. And only with you am I whole. I believe this as fully as any fact known by man. If you feel I can do anything besides be undeserving of such a place in your heart I am blessed."

"You are deserving," you say with a small smile, eyes staring into his. "You are my most favorite thing in the universe. I thought I knew happiness before you, before I knew you, but I have never been more elated to be wrong. I would lose everything to be with you, do you know that? I would rather live in squalor than be without you now. For what is it all worth when you have experienced what you make me feel? There is no other high in the world I would ever chase that could match what I feel simply by waking in your arms. I will try to express it until my tongue turns to dust how deeply you are apart of me now. But I ask you Alfie...my darling...do you know how much I love you?" you ask, your chin nodding towards him. You feel fearless and raw, as if you'd been sliced open and your past sins that made you feel so hesitant to accept the existence of something so sublime, came pouring out. 

"Oh but I do, Genevieve. I know it for you have shown it to me. You and your love have kept me alive. For that, I owe you nothing short of dying for you. And I would gladly, my love. My creature that defies all reason of logic to me, do you know how much I love you?" he asks his thumb moving tenderly over your cheek, his nose against yours. 

"Oh but I do." you swoon back, taking his words. "I know it for you have shown it to me. You have spoken it to me with your heavenly words and without through your eyes and hands. I love you, Alfie Solomons. I have never loved a man as I do you and I do not plan on loving another after you."

"No one could ever compare to you. I would not even entertain the thought." he says with a smile, pausing and taking a deep breath, his eyes shutting, brow furrowing as he presses his forehead to yours. "I love you. I have ached to say it." he opens his eyes and takes your face into both of his hands. "I love you." he states again. 

Your cheeks crease under his hold. "And I love you." you whisper. "I love you, Alfie. My only regret is holding onto my fear and not saying it sooner. For that, forgive me."

"Forgiven." he says as he kisses you. "She loves me." he whispers, a smile on his lips. "I have loved you for so long, Genevieve."

"You have?" you ask with rapidly blinking eyes. 

"I would dare to say on a deep, subconscious level I knew I would love you the day you walked into my office." he says with a sigh. a crooked, closed mouth smile appearing on his lips as he wet them. "I thought that woman will be the one to do me in." his smile grows and he kisses you. "And that was proven true. And I wouldn't want it any other way." he says with a brief shake of his head. 

"I must admit I knew much later." you say bashfully, triggering a deep chuckle from him.

"I wouldn't expect anything else from a complicated creature such as yourself. To know anything for certain is so rare. And to know you have come to it on your own terms only makes it that much more dear to me, my love." he coos, another peck gifted to you.

"I knew without a doubt the night we kissed at your club." you confess.

"Yes. That was a night I recall feeling it very strongly." he adds with a nod.

"I knew the night you invited me to your house for the first time. I'd thought I was when you left. What else would've caused me to hurt in such a way? When I told you I was Jewish I had hoped I was in love with you, as I hoped you were in love with me. When Elizabeth died it made aware of that I might be. That night spent in the tub together, telling you of all the ways you appealed to me...my heart was trying to tell my brain something it didn't want to believe. Something I could no longer ignore."

"That night was special wasn't it? I could feel it when I touched you. When we made love that night you were so quiet. So delicate and soft." he says quietly, a relaxed smile on his face, recalling the night. 

"But I can attest that from the moment I laid eyes on you I knew you were special," you say with a more cheeky smile. "I felt something coming off of you that I was attracted to. I thought it was you being a powerful man. And I suppose in part it was." you shrug and smile into his hand, closing your eyes for a moment. "But now I know the draw to you was something beyond my understanding telling me to not lose you. That our paths had finally come to a point, and that point was one of no return." you gently kiss his palm and turn back to him, placing your hands on top of his. 

"We did meet at an interesting time in our lives didn't we?" he muses, leaning in close again. 

"It seemed inconvenient. But there would've been no other time before when I would've opened myself up to someone."

"And I will never forget that without you and your brilliant brain I would most likely not be here right now." he adds in a lower tone.

"Oh, how you haunted me, Alfie." you whisper. "You still haunt me, you know? Only in new ways now. Much more pleasurable ways." you look up to meet his eyes. 

"And may I continue to do so?"

"Most certainly. I insist you do not stop." you say with a soft smile. 

"Then I never shall." he kisses you. "And what pleasure might I continue to bring you?" he whispers against your lips and you feel your heart flutter as his lips begin to move to your cheek, his breath hot against your jaw. 

"For you to indulge in my appetites. To humor my fascinations with you." you rasp out. "To make love to me well and often."

"I will add it to the ketubah." he coos in a deep tone and you let out a deep giggle, your arms moving to around his neck as he moves his to embrace you. 

"You will have no trouble remembering to do so, I'm certain." your voice growing breathy as his hands roamed your back, the heat from his body warming you through your thin clothing.

"I forget how to do anything but make love to you at times, I will admit you stunningly gorgeous goddess of mine." he groans, lips moving across your neck as you let your head fall to the side. 

"Then let's forget everything but that tonight, mon Fie. I want to show you how much I love you. I want to tell you I do while we're one. I want to know the contentment that only comes with falling asleep in your arms after exploring each other bodies fully. I want to take our time to make the memories of the night we told each other how we felt unforgettable. I want to remember this night forever." you confess with eyes that had fluttered shut as he cradles your head in his large hand. 

"And I will show you how much I love you without words as best I can, my love. I will be a man at worship when I'm with you. We will not be able to tell where we begin or end." he breathes out as he works his way up to your lips. "Are you ready for bed, pet?" he asks first, pulling his mouth from your skin to ask permission. 

"I'm always ready for you Alfie. Take me. I'm yours." you purr with an affectionate bump of his nose to yours. 

"Then I will take my queen to her throne, shall I?" he says with a dip in his voice, turning you and lifting you up threshold style as you keen happily and put your arms around his neck. He takes the stairs slowly as you hum and kiss at his cheek and ears. 

"I do love it when you do this." you admit in a giggle, your fingers playing in the hair at the nape of his neck. 

"Carry you to bed?" he asks, bumping the door open with his foot. 

"Yes. Makes me feel small and overtly aware of how broad and strong you are. I do love it when I can't ignore how arousing you are, darling." you hum and take his earlobe between your lips. 

He gently sits you on the bed, you throwing your legs over the side, looking up at him with big eyes, taking in the breadth of him. "Shall I serve you further by undressing you as well? Would that please you?"

"It would please me very much." you purr. 

"Then lie back and I will show you how I love you, darling." he drops to his knees in front of you and you know you will never tire of the sight. "I will use my mouth against your skin to tell you." he whispers, starting with a kiss to your chest. "I will used my hands to worship your body in it's striking beauty." he continues, running his hands up your bare thighs. "And I will use my cock to worship your heavenly cunt until neither of us can recall the world outside exists." he finishes his promise with a seal of his lips to yours. A biting harshness to it, feeling the way your breath hitched at how he spoke of your body. 

Your arms wrap around his neck slowly, the only sounds your mind would acknowledge were the friction of your clothing and the sound of one another breathing. The ambient noises of the night on the streets, the flickering of flames on the dripping candles, the rustling of the wind through the curtains was nonexistent. A single candelabra sits on the vanity across from the bed in its little alcove with the large mirror. The light reflects off it, creating a warm wash across the room, the creeping high moon lights in slats through the windows on either side of the bed, both battling across your skin as your moved for supremacy. 

His adept fingers grip your robe, sliding it from your shoulders, kisses leading down from your lips to follow the fabric down one arm. He brings your hand up to his lips, they brush against your knuckles, carrying across your palms, smooth and sensuous as they envelop each fingertip. His mouth exhales into your ear, sending goosebumps across your skin as the straps of your gown are dragged down. He pulls the silky maroon gown down by the sides under your arms, a quick yank down across the span of your breasts. In the low light, you can still see his chest shift with a heavy breath at the sight of you, a glimpse through his half unbuttoned shirt. His chest hair peeks out, your eyes following how it moves up and connects with the wild and unruly beard that had overgrown through the winter. Your fingers long to get lost in it, feel the roughness of the wiry hair as your fingertips trace down his strong body. You get your chance as he gives over to his lust for your body.

"My love your divine body is utterly exquisite." he lightly moans across your collarbones, rough fingers outlining over the swell of your breasts. His kisses go lower, hands cupping your large breasts and bringing them to his eager lips. A muffled "mmph." of pure enjoyment from him as your hands move to his neck as he sucks and licks away at your softness. "Perfect." he rasps out, his plush lips moving across your skin. You sigh and let your feelings overtake you. You indulge in the urge to meld together, skin to skin, every limb entangled and covered in a thin veil of sweat. You work away at his buttons, hands making their way to his shoulders under his shirt, your nails raking across and eliciting a moan from him. 

He wills his lips to part form your skin, hands moving to your thighs and squeezing, feeling the rough skin across the soft fuzz that covered your thighs, kneading up to your hips, hands slowly gathering the silk slip in his hands. His fingertips trace down your sides gently, outlining the curvature of your body before delving under the fabric to pull it down your thighs. At the unveiling of the fact that you were without knickers his strung-out face licks its lips, nostrils flaring and twitching as the triangle of plush hair is revealed with every distance he pulls down your gown. It falls from your knees to the floor easily with the guide of his hand, then both moving up to capture your legs again, thumbs rubbing against your sensitive inner thighs. 

"You are statuesque in your beauty, my love. Why no one has carved you into stone for the world to revel in your magnificence is beyond me." he exhales softly, hands so tender against you, taking their time to feel your softness as they work their way up to under your breasts where his thumbs swipe over your now hard nipples. "But I would wish to be so selfish as to only have my eyes take in your form like this. Only these cursed hands can find their salvation across your impossibly soft skin. My god Genevieve the greed you light within me for your body." he groans with his nose brushing yours, keeping you so close but wanting to enact on the greed to keep you wanting, watching you take in all the words he wants to seduce you with.

"I wish to see you, to touch you. To act upon the covetous nature you awaken in me with your libidinous words." you trace your tongue across his lower lip and you feel his lashes flutter against you. "Stand Alfie, let me take the pleasure in undressing you now. Let us act gluttonous in our lust." you whisper, seeing his shoulders slump as he finds himself being immersed in your words, something he'd never experienced with another woman before. A woman with a filthy mouth arising want in someone was one thing, a woman that could tame the tongue of a charm spinning man, to make it stutter at her own serpentine one that bewitched him was another. You were surely a creature from another realm to do such things to a man like him. 

"As you wish, my love." he purrs, a mild kiss before doing as you request. His half-lidded eyes take you in as you sit back to admire him, your head tilted in consideration, hair behind you and your body glowing from the light bouncing around the mirrors and white walls of the room. 

You stand and work away at his buttons, soft tugs to unleash his shirt, a leisurely descent of your fingers down the rising and falling slopes of his winter bulked torso. Kisses placed to his chest and upper arms as you let the shirt fall to the floor. You kiss with fervor across his tattoos, the broad planes of his chest, your fingers unfastening his trousers. "What a strapping man I've managed to capture." you sigh, nose nuzzling against his chest, lips indulgent, grazing over his nipples and listening to his breath catch. "So strong." you praise breathily, leaving his trousers open and diverting for a moment to his arms, giving them a squeeze and continuing your journey across his chest. You let your fingers cascade down past his own, pushing down his pants as you brush your flat palm over his length, feeling it grow as you loosely grasp at him, passive and tame tugs, one hand after the other, feeling him get hard and humming contently against his chest as you feel the moans move up and out of his mouth. "You gallant..." you rasp out, stroking him with both hands, still a light touch to only arouse him, it wasn't about getting anywhere quickly tonight. You only wanted to worship him with your body the same as he did you. "...potent beast of mine." you coo and look up to find his eyes shut. Those pillowy lips parted and recently wetted as you take in the impressive mixture of rugged masculinity with his touches of delicate beauty that made up his face. Lashes that curved outward over blue eyes, plush and lustful lips, the elegant and straight slope of his nose below that heavy brow that covered his expressive eyes. Knowing he could bring people down with a simple expression, a glance of his powerful face, including you, made you sigh out audibly as you looked at him through the eyes of a woman in love. "Such a dominant figure you are my darling. So dynamic with the softness you show me. And only me...is that right my most handsome lover?" you look up at him with doe eyes, lashes fluttering same as his as he comes back to the surface, looking down at you with eyes that declare you to be his wordlessly.

"It is, my love," he says smoothly, feet moving to rid him of all other clothing as he pulls you to him, skin to skin and connected with a slow kiss. "Only you can bring forth the good that is left in me." he shakes his head and speaks against your lips. You hold his face for a moment, a single noisy smooch before you pull from him, his hands held out and wanting as you spin to get on the bed. 

"Come." you say on your knees in the center of the bed. "I want to feel you, mon Fie. I want the heat of you against me." you say with a delicate smile. He obeys and crawls towards you on the bed and the sight of such a predatory beast coming your way makes your chest heave and a satisfied hum escape you. You see him hard, hanging between his legs centered with the dark gingery hair that trailed up his stomach and dusted out to his thighs. You move your eyes slowly, no need to rush the feast you were taking in. 

He watches you bite your lip, tongue wetting them, your eyes dark and roaming as he sat on his knees across from you, sat the same. Watching your chest rise and fall, your hands moving up and down your thighs slowly, he wondered if he'd ever been gazed at in such a way. Only on his worst days, when his war-racked body would ache in it's age and abuse would be feel lacking in his confidence. But if he had you to look at him like this, completely bare and only himself to offer, feeling so wanted and powerful he doubted anything could ever affect his view on his body again. 

You inch closer, a subtle smile on your face, fingertips light across each other's skin as you melt together, chest to chest. He moves to kiss you and you pull back, a smile with your tongue peaking from your teeth up at him, as his eyes flutter to meet your own with a look of confusion. You graze his lips with yours, only teasing, making him wait, wanting to savor the sensations of touch fully before interlocking completely as you were sure to lose yourself in him. Your tongue licks his lips gently, running your lips open across his cheek before returning, a denial that he wasn't sure of at first. As he leans in to only share breath with you, hands deliberate across each other's bodies. Moving between legs and across shoulders, dragging up from your ankles to resting on ribs, his senses are heightened, existing in the moment with you. You both move and switch places in turns, chest to chest, back to back with heads lolling and fingertips gripping into hips from behind. You roll aimlessly on the bed with entangled limbs. Your lips light against each other, taking in every bead of sweat and gasp as you taste each other's most intimates places. Juices from your fingertips and lips, sucked off your own fingers or spread into the others mouths, sharing and building in connection slowly with no other motive than to show the other how much you adored them. You take him into your mouth, he takes you into his, from palms to between your legs, nipples, earlobes, and lips all thoroughly explored and worship to a pert pinkness. 

And just as this heartfelt affair had started, unintentionally but seamlessly, while above you, your legs wrapped around him, feet caressing his thighs and bum, he slips inside you. A soft exhale with his lips to your throat. His exploration across the pulse in your neck as slow as his hips, a lazy pendulum, slow and steady rubs against you. As the first loud moan builds, a faint gasp, an arching of your back that waves up your body to release the build-up of the wanton sound. He captures it in his mouth, your hands to either side of his face as he moves above you. You force your eyes open, you want to watch him and find he's already doing that same to you. Your body wants to dissolve into nothing but pleasure underneath him, but your heart is telling you this is something more. You're left open in every sense to him, both your eyes half-lidded and dark, lustful but still controlled as you had conversations with no words, but with moving lips against each other. Your eyes served as windows, as the poets say, to your souls that had felt so hindered before they found each other. You move his hair from the peaceful oceans of his eyes, it now hung limp and damp as yours, falling into his face. You take the time to feel the strands through your fingers, the thick softness, the wiry almost curl of the ends, still long from his winter coat that had gone untrimmed. 

HIs fingers surprise you, his broad and ringed thumb slipping over the pulsing and sensitive bud, already wet from the previous release his sucking lips had brought upon you. Your body, tenses at the feeling, eyes fluttering as a masculine smile falls across his face at what he's doing to you. You hum and your hips shift, hands leaving the cozy nest of his hair for a moment to roam his arms, his back, his arse, feeling his muscles move and tense underneath his skin. You feel the strength of him beneath your hands, moving up to his shoulders again, the caps barely contained by your whole hand, trying to grasp him as another wave of pleasure builds and washes over you. A whimper is passed between you as you feel his arm slip underneath you, a deeper moan that turns into a smile, as he pulls your body off the bed. As he rises, your fingers slide through the unkempt curls at the base of his neck, pulling out of your grasp, sliding out of your hands, left hanging and reaching for him. He pulls his legs underneath him, pushing into you deeply as he does so, a non verbally praise of the depth he was reaching before you are left with only your head on the bed. You push off with your hands, answering him with your movement as he whispers, "Come." to you as he brings your bodies together chest to chest. Pulling you into his lap, his legs now straighten out in front of him, you wrap your legs around him, planting your feet behind him on the bed. It takes only seconds to feel the growing desperation in his hands, and then as you look down as his parted and panting lips, you see he's passed his limit for control and you welcome it. 

Your one hand strong to the back of his neck, the other resting, your back slightly reclined as you held up your weight on the bed. His hands move to your hips, although they do not need the instruction to move, you use your thighs to grind yourself against him. The fullness of him inside you in addition to the tension from the muscles in your legs make you let out a breathy moan into the air. He answers it quickly as one hand moves up your back, large and holding your weight with it, pulling you closer to him. His mouth hangs open, leaning fast into the valley of your breasts. Your arms push them together, as he glides back and forth without grace to each nipple, taking one into his mouth, then the other, sucking and lapping away at you like you were the last thing he was ever going to taste. With one hand firmly on your most lower back, fingers gripping you by the gap of your bum, keeping you moving against him as he moans into your skin. Another hand, now freed moves up your body as he continues nipping away at your hardened nipples, it moves frictionlessly across the slicked skin up to your neck, to mirror your grip. With a loud breathy exhale, he pulls his lips to yours with the harshest movement of the night. Open mouths meet, tongues writhe between mashed and pliant lips, broad swiping strokes to fragile entangled movements with your tips before more cries rise between you. Moans and groans pass faster between you. You break the connection, your breathing growing too wild with the movement of your hips, as they started to seek out release while the tightness between the two of you grew. You let your eyes shut, giving yourself over to the feeling, focusing on his hands on your body, moving you both faster as he bucked into you, your hips taking him in deeper still. With your hand fully fisted into his hair, the other clinging to his upper back, your thighs make up the difference his hips and hands moving can't as you let your head fall back, your hair brushing across his thighs, tickling it as his skin grew more and more sensitive the longer you two were entangled together. Your mouth wouldn't close now, leaving room open for every noise he pushed up and out into the dim room. He cranes his neck, his nose and lips lightly pressed to your throat as your head lolls back. You can feel the pattern of his breathing through the flutter of his breath and the press of his chest against yours. 

Taking him deeper and grinding down, him pushing in and out of you, you build to a wondrous crescendo, your lips whining and seeking out his, low brows pressed together as his hand held you taut. Panting mouths and rolled back sets of eyes show your vulnerability, letting no noise go unheard, no reservations of showing any weakness for the other now as you poured out the wordless praise as your thighs shook and your nails dug into his skin. It was intense but not boisterous, a subtle hand to show his work was not going unappreciated. You felt helpless, floating with him in suspended bliss as his grunts tell you he let himself give in this time too.

He filled you up in every way, physically and emotionally. With the desperate moans passed, the kisses come crashing hard again. Whimpers follow presses of lips in their fluctuating patterns against one another. His arms now fully embracing you, you come down together, your thighs now lax and knees spread at his sides. Staying inside you, He lies on his back, keeping you close. The indulgent nature is lazy and heavy, both slick with sweat, muscles tired from a full day and a fuller night. As your breathing regulates, kisses more shallow, pauses between them with hums and brushes of your noses, he rolls you to your side. Your leg stays around his hip, arms wrapped around his neck as he moves to carelessly kiss your neck and shoulders, still silence between the two of you. It was a practice in wordless communication, this love making you both took your time with. It wasn't its purpose as it happened naturally, but it leads to a deeper understanding of each other. 

With sleepy eyes and heavy limbs he rises, a familiar grunt as he bends at the waist and reaches for blankets you'd turned down. A soft and clean whoosh of air over you as they settle against you. He leans back against the headboard, a king among the pillows, and you, his queen sliding against him to his side. He covers you to the ears, one hand lazily stroking your hair, pulling it off your shoulders, creating some control to the chaos of the cloak of it wrapped around you during your romp together. As every exhale had been since you'd told him you loved him, you felt a tiny bit of your old self fade away with the heavy sigh that escaped you as you pressed your cheek to his chest. 

"Alfie?" you ask in a voice that feels almost foreign. It was fluffy and light and girlish, a whisper from a child who didn't know heartbreak yet is how is name left your lips. 

"Yes, my love?" his voice and face are relaxed, and how long had it been since they both were at the same time, he could not recall. The lightness of the white room, the air that caressed his damp face and hair, moon and candlelight bouncing off each other as he looked to the mirror across the room from the bed, a calm tone set that he was sure he would only ever be able to experience again in your arms. He studies your bodies under the covers in the reflection, how there was no discernable shape of two people underneath them, but a two-headed creature that lay in wait, concealed from the prying eyes of the outside world. And wasn't that just so fitting? 

"Bien qu'il n'ait pas besoin detre parle avec des mots apres que nos corps l'ont dit avec le toucher, je me trouve toujours desireux de vous le dire dans ma langue etrangere." (Although it does not need to be spoken with words after our bodies have said it with touch, I still find myself longing to tell you in my foreign tongue)." your voice is sweet, just as the smile is on your face. "Je t'aime. (I love you)" you confess again, eyes closed with a fluttering of lashes against his skin he takes the time to feel. 

You were so soft in his embrace, one hand reaching over to stroke your cheek, the other rested on your arm to keep you close. "Et ja t'aime mon petite.En France, votre coeur et votre foyer nous ont amenes ensembles vers cet endroit. Il est juste que nous le disions dans la langue maternelle qui l'a fait sortir de nous." (And I love you my little one. In France, it has been your heart and your home to bring us together to this place. It is only right that we say it in the mother tongue which brought it out of us.) His voice is quiet, the words making you feel young. Imaging yourself still sitting in the tiny first apartment you had, chin in hand and staring out into the expanse of the city, longing to hear a man with a voice and mind like his tell you things that were now a reality. 

"Et c'est encore plus doux que je n'ai jaimies imagine. (And it's even sweeter than I ever imagined). Combien il est lourd detre des mots si simples. (How heavy it is to be such simple words) Je t'aime. (I love you). Creer ou detrruire une vie avec si peu de mots. (To create or destroy a life with so few words)" you muse, your voice quiet, delivered sleepily against his skin.

"Et quelle chance nous avions de le dire dans la creation.(And how lucky we are have said it in creation)" he whispers, voice as tired as yours, a contented hum in repsonse from you. " Je souhaite construire une vie avec vous, Geneveive. C'est mon intnetion de le faire. Je t'aime. J'ia attendu toute une vie pour fe trouver et ja prevois de nouse rejoindre officiellement bientot. (I do wish to build a life with you, Genevieve. It is my intention to do so. I love you. I have waited a lifetime to find you and I plan to join us together formally soon)" 

The words feel like a dream, you wonder if you've already fallen asleep as the promise brings you no worry and only a warmth that goes deeper than that radiating from his body into yours. "Je t'aime Alfie et je t'attendrai. (I love you Alfie and I will be waiting)" you whisper to him. Because you do, and you will.


	64. Love Is Blindness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song for the chapter is Love Is Blindness by Jack White.  
> With the rest of their time in Paris spent in a dream, the harsh reality of their lives comes crashing back in as Gen and Alfie return home. The backlash to their coupling begins.

You wake up in the dim morning light, his head to the side as you murmur and look up at him. The unfocused glow of the sun falling across his face, freckles that are barely visible across his nose and cheeks, the warm light making the red in his hair more prominent. It made him glow like the cinders of a dying fire, reminding you of the burning emotion that lay just beneath the surface. 

You rise to turn your upper body to lay on his chest more so you can kiss his jaw. He grumbles and winces, nose twitching as his lips pout, pulling himself out of sleep. You kiss him again, your hand on his cheek, a simple press to his cheek, watching his eyes disappearing under his heavy hooded lids as his brow dips low, shifting before finally opening. A deep grunt rises from his chest.

"Mornin' love." his rumbling voice carries out into the breezy, open room.

"Matin, mon Fie." you coo, a kiss to his chest that makes him happily hum. You peck your way up to his cheek again, his arm moving taught around you, bringing you up against him. "Did we really finally say all those things last night?" you ask with a soft smile.

His brow shifts, narrowed eyes still heavy with sleep look down to you curled up like a kitten against him. "I dunno. Did we?" he smirks and reaches up to stroke your hair.

"You really do love me, Alfie?" you ask for purely selfish reasons, wanting to hear it, to see it on his face again.

"Do you love me?" he asks in rebuttal, a charismatic lazy smile playing across his plush lips.

"I asked you first." you say with a wrinkle of your nose.

He chest shakes with a laugh before it carries out of his mouth, stopping when he presses his lips to your head. "Bloody ridiculous." he chuckles. "Asked me first..." he muses and shakes his head, rubbing his face with his hand. "How could I not with that sort 'a response. Cheeky little girl." he grins and moves to squeeze you with both arms. "'Course I love you, you ridiculous creature." he hums happily as your fingers play in his beard, eyes closing again, his body relaxing under yours.

"I love you too." you whisper, nuzzling into his neck. You let out a content sigh against him, fingers lazily stroking his chest hair, setting the tone for the rest of your time in Paris.

\------

Your days in Paris were spent in the most ideal of ways, together. You ate until it forces you back to your place to nap, you spent mornings in the marketplace, picking out ingredients for your meals, flowers for the apartment and browsing the young artists work, buying pieces to join your growing wall of paintings. You spend your nights at shows, taking in the opera and the Moulin Rouge. Which wasn't Alfie's cup of tea. You dance by the edge of the Seine to live music, violins accompanying your slow-moving feet as he dips you down in his arms, your laughter disrupting the kisses you share. You walk home across bridges and stopping to kiss at the peaks of their arches, taking your time to look out at the water, the reflections of the city in the moonlight upon it.

Almost every morning and night you make your declarations of love in some form. Some mornings your hands roam and you keep it simple, bringing each other over the edge sloAwly, staying warm under the covers. Your nights are varied, some fast and desperate, him taking you on top of your piano, in the tub before you make it to bed. Others are slow, some with a constant spinning of affectionate words between the two of you, others in silence and always ending in each other's arms as you fell asleep.

The last night he gives you to earrings he'd bought. You felt disappointed in yourself for not having the foresight to get him something in return. He expresses the symbolism of teardrop stones. He promises not to bring you any more tears, save for those made of precious stones. You put them on, and promptly take everything else off, and proceed to have him tell you all the things he wishes for you both. Everything he promises to do, the things he'll never do and ending with the things he wanted to do to you tonight.

The dreamlike escape had to come to an end, and after the long journey back you both crash in bed together for one more night at your home, the next morning the real world awaited you. You see him off to work like you used to and it felt right to spend your mornings together in such a way. You put his hat on his head before he walked out the door, sharing a kiss under the wide brim with both your hands on his face before you let him go. As you watched his car shrink into nothing you feel the weight of worry grow, as the gravity of reality set in once again.

It doesn’t take you long to get back into the swing of things, it wasn’t as if you’d been gone that long. The deep immersion you’d given yourselves over to had only led you to feel as if it’d been months when it was not even a full week. But the good it had done for you both couldn’t really be measured in any tangible way. A scale wouldn’t reflect the lightness you felt now, it could only be felt.

So as Abeille falls back into place, so does Alfies work. And with it, things started to move forward and you were now looking at the first job you’d be working together as a couple. And wasn’t it suited this job would be a dirty one.

You wait in Alfie's office, leaned against his desk as he oversees the placement of the tables for the false truce meeting that would be going down within the hour. You had all the routes ran, knew who was shooting who and all that was left was to set up was the meal and wait for the Greeks to arrive. You weren’t exactly nervous, but you weren’t unbothered by it either. Shooting the head of a crime family was never something to be taken lightly, even if it was premeditated by that heads son. You were placing a lot of trust in Niko to make sure this ran smoothly and that was what was making you apprehensive.

Alfie’s voice breaks your train of thought as your foot bounces with the crossing of your leg, sat back in his chair. “I ‘ave to say, I thought I was Alfie Solomons but it seems that innit right as a body is surely sittin' in the chair only he sits in, yeah?” He muses, shutting the door behind him as you give him a smirk and rise. “But I gotta say, Alfie, ya lookin' bloody good these days.” He lets out a chuckle as he greets you with a kiss to the cheek first, then the back of your hand. “‘Ello love.” He says in a softer voice. “Punctual as always.” He says in his more usual gruff voice.

“I could’ve been late but you wouldn't have known since you are.” you tease.

“Well, it's work innit?” He says in playful defense. “Someone’s gotta tell these boys what to do. Like they were raised by wolves, none can set a table.” He Shakes his head in disappointment.

“I could’ve overseen that, you know.” You offer, letting him take his rightful place in his chair, leaning on his desk next to him.

“I'll let ya next time, yeah? I ain't got the patience to when fuckin' deals like 'is are afoot.” He says with a vague gesturing of his hand.

“Do you want me to go deal with them now?” You offer.

“No, no, love.” He groans, reaching out and taking your hand to pull you closer. “Here’s where I need ya right now.” He says softly, pulling you into his lap.

“Has he had a rough day already?” You coo, scratching your fingers in his beard. 

“Aye.” He nods.

“After this are you free? It’s not our usual night spent together but could we have some tea or something? I’d love a chance to give you a pick me up to get you through the rest of the week.” You speak sweetly, seeing his crows feet grow and shift, the weight of his brow low from worry and work.

“You wanna go to my place after 'is? Have a real meal 'n cozy up?” He replies with closed eyes as your soft fingertips work away at his temples and into his slicked back hair. He hums contently at the loving touch he’d missed this week.

“Sounds wonderful darling.” You kiss his temple first, then lightly on the mouth. He grunts and reaches up to hold your hand as it stroked the hair sticking out of his shirt. You're sharing a series of small affectionate kisses when you’re interrupted.

“They’re arriving.” Ollie announces, a head peeking through the door with an indifferent face to finding you two together. Everyone knew about you now, Alfie's men and anyone else who had their eyes and ears on the gossip of London it seemed. You couldn’t blame them for talking though, it wasn’t exactly a match anyone but the two of you had seen coming. A gangster and a businesswoman. Not a likely pairing with the social circles you ran but no one had anything bad to say. Not to your face anyway. Plenty of nosy questions at the gala you’d attended without him but you didn’t mind providing a thrill to the women who dared ask about being with a gangster. It shocked most, as you seemed so polite and well-bred within the art community but you curtly explained he was nothing but a gentleman to you, and as you saw it his business was just that, his, and you would keep to yours. The answer satisfied most of the gossips as it was just vague enough to make any further questions seem suspicious.

“Right.” Alfie grunts, patting the back of your hand. “Let’s get the evenin’ started shall we then Miss Durand?” He asks, his arm swooping out in an ‘after you’ gesture.

“Certainly Mr. Solomons.” You chuckle and rise.

“Ollie see em in 'n pat 'em down.” He gruffs out and nods for him to get to it.

He begins to walk past you out the door and you grab his wrist, causing him to turn towards you with a raised brow.

“Before we do something dangerous...” you begin, putting his hand behind your back. “I wanted to have a proper goodbye. Traditions are important. Can’t be too careful.” You playfully scold.

“Aren’t you just a soft little thing?” He teases.

“I love you darling.” You say with a single press of your lips to his.

“And I love you.” His voice is soft and sweet, the last of it being as such that you’ll hear tonight. “Rejoice not at thine enemy’s fall...” he begins with a smile.

“But don’t rush to pick him up either.” You finish the proverb and chuckle against his lips.

You leave his office and begin the walk towards the main door. “You are a quick mind, love. You’ll be havin’ that bat mitzvah any day now innit ya?” He says walking down the long dusty lane to greet the men at the other end.

“I have still have plenty left to learn.”

“Quick and brilliant as she knows she is not ever finished learning.” He says, his body language and face turning harder. You transform from his little Chanah to Miss Genevieve Durand. He evolved back into Alfie Solomons from your gentle mon Fie. His shoulders shift with guarded body language. All the traces of love wiped from your presentations as you meet the men with indifferent faces, ready to work.

Customary greetings ensue, a too tight hug from Demitri for either you or Alfies comfort. He had already been eager to off the man but the way he looked at you and touched you in his presence was so disrespectful he felt his fingers twitch to pull the trigger himself.

You stay in the back of the group and let Alfie lead the men into the other wing.

“You and Solomons huh?” Niko says, standing still and refusing to move on with the other men.

“He and I what?” You demand him to not be vague.

“You’re together. I’ve heard about it.”

“Yes, we are.” You give a nod of acknowledgment.

“So you were lying to me then?” his tone accusatory and you did not appreciate it one bit.

“What?” You ask with a tilt of your head and innocence to your voice.

“You said you couldn’t be with anyone when I tried to kiss you. Were you with him the whole time?” He asks flatly, his tone concerning.

“I have never lied to you Niko. We were not together when you accompanied me to those parties. Which I thank you for.” You give him a more friendly nod. 

“Why him?” He bluntly asks, his eyes looking over you in a predatory way.

You’re surprised by the brashness of the question. “We are here on business tonight Niko, not pleasure. I’m a lady who doesn’t discuss her personal life. Especially in a setting like this. If you are worried about our being professional I assure you we take nothing as seriously as we do our work.” You say walking forward and trying to catch up to the other men.

“No, I know you do.” He says quietly. “But I thought we had something. Next thing I know I hear you’re with Solomons.” He says gesturing towards the doorway.

“It was not something that was foreseen by either of us. It just... happened.” You say with your lips in a tight line. “It is nothing personal against you. I hope you don’t take it so.” You say with bigger eyes to lure him into your softness.

“Hard not to...” He says with wandering eyes.

He was being so bloody difficult and leaving Alfie without you with the men was making you nervous. “You’re a lovely bloke Niko, but the heart wants what the hearts wants. That’s the saying, right? I wasn’t looking for anyone. That was not a lie. I never mislead you, or I tried my best not to. If I came off as anything but sincere you have my deepest apologies.” You say with your hands clasped and a polite nod.

“You have never lied in business I do not know why that would not translate to your personal life as well.”

“Thank you.” You kindly accept. “Shall we?” You ask motioning toward the doorway.

“I will ask only once... but is there any chance I could steal you away from him?” He comes close and leans in, the nerve of him surprising you but you don’t let it show. “You need a young man who can keep up with you. Someone coming up in the world, not sitting idle on bookies and... bread.” He says through gritted teeth.

You’d like to slap him for the insults on behalf of you and Alfie. But you do not, as it wouldn’t make for a good business relationship move. “I would like to say first and foremost I do not NEED a MAN at all.” You state clearly. “I would appreciate it if during business meetings you kept the conversation to business and not make assumptions about me or my personal life. It’s rude. And no. You may not steal me away as I am not a thing to be won or taken.” You say with more bite.

“God, you are feisty aren’t you?” He gives you a wolfish grin. “Solomons....” He says as he walks past you. “He’s a lucky man.” He lilts and you wrinkle up your nose at the tone.

As you follow him into the room he takes up as much space as he can, moving slowly to his seat. Alfie gives you a concerned glance that you can read in his eyes and you give him a nod and a polite smile to continue.

“Ah, lovely Genevieve!” Demitri says, moving his hand to point towards the seat in front of him. “Sit! Sit here so I may look at you it has been so long.” He says with a seemingly genuine smile. But you know his intentions. “I promise not to touch!” He laughs. “But even a blind man wouldn’t help but look eh?” He laughs loudly. “How are you little Genevieve? Is this man treating you well?”He says gesturing to Alfie who sits next to you.

“Yes, he is.” You say in a short time and a nod. “But I believe we are here to discuss business aren’t we Demitri?” You ask with a tilt of your head, your chin rating in your hand and a playful smile on your face. “I can’t have all my best boys fighting now can I?” You pout and play up to him. “You know it upsets me.”

“We must’ve upset the fairer sex must we? Fragile little flowers... they cannot stand the cruelty of the world bless them!” He speaks loudly, as usual, big lungs enclosed in a large barrel chest push his voice around the room.

“You were kind enough to spare Alfie for me before. And you have my endless thanks for that, you know this.” You nod and delicately touch his hand. “But might we come to something more permanent? Seems two minds as terribly clever as yours can see the benefits of a truce?”

“My sons have shown me these reasons yes.” He nods. ”But I am Afraid Solomons has gone beyond business and insulted me. I feel disrespected and I do not want to do business with someone who would speak to me in such a way.” His tone shifts, darker and playing the victim.

“Would an apology work? Could a peace offering be the first step to moving forward?” You ask sweetly.

“Perhaps.” He nods and his bottom lip pouts out over the salt and pepper stubble in his round face. “What would you like to offer?” He asks.

“A showing of peace as is customary for our people. You have the gift of bread and salt here, the best wine as well. We have a grand meal with a ceremonial sacrificial lamb to be prepared as well should you wish you accept the truce.”

“That is what you offer?” He asks almost literally turning his nose up at it.

“This is customary and symbolic of an agreement made.” You say earnestly. “It is sacred and very serious.” You add softly.

“It's a holy order of things to be done to show thanks. This thanks bein’ to you, from the Jews to the Greeks for not finishin’ the job with offin’ me ‘n and for agreein’ to peace between us. It is usually reserved for holy days but we made an exception as Genevieve here felt it was important to conduct the business before Passover.” Alfie chimes in.

“Ah. I see.” He nods.

“Could we agree to not destroy each other? You and Alfie can discuss your contracts under a new leaf turned. You can both conduct your fair business and nothing is lost.”

“Except a part of me fuckin’ shoulder bone. Thanks for that mate.” Alfie raises an eyebrow at the older man.

“I do not like the way he speaks, Geneveive. He is as disrespectful as ever!” He announces.

You were glad you were planning on killing him because it was clear he had no intentions of accepting. “It is a part of his personality and not personal.” You say with a dismissive shake of your head.

“Why are you with him?” He blatantly asks, Niko smirks and crosses his arms.

You can sense Alfie prickling up next to you. "What sort a fuckin' question is that?" he scoffs.

“I’m afraid that’s rather personal and not what we’re discussing here.” You say sheepishly.

“Answer me honestly and I might agree to this truce.” He declares haughtily.

You tap Alfie's foot to let him know you were ready. You look to Niko and he raises his brows and you mirror the gesture, letting him know these were the final moments. He nods and so do you. His eyes cast downward to the table and beginning to look miles away. You sit back in your chair and take a deep breath.

“Because unlike you, he has always been respectful of me Demitri.” You say with an entirely different, colder tone. The man’s face contorts in confusion. “He never once groped or pinched me like some animal with no manners. He never abused his status in society as a man to hold things over my head.” Your tone turns more biting and your face grows angrier. “He never insulted me, and never alluded to the insinuation I was lesser than in ANY way. He sees how smart I am. How clever and ruthless and manipulative. You only ever saw a little doll playing with boys toys and you laughed, never taking me seriously. But you should have Demitri. You should have and since you cannot play the game by the new rules... we’re kicking you out of the game altogether.” Your tone low and sinister.

“How dare you! I have done nothing but help you! A woman in a man’s game! I entertained your enthusiasm because you are clever and pretty but that mouth of yours! What’s the meaning of this?” his back straightening and his tone deeply offended.

“It’s time to step down, father.” Niko says, not making eye contact and shaking his head.

“Is that what this is about?! I’ll never do it! Over my dead body!”

“That can be arranged.” Alfie snidely says.

It all happens quickly. Demitri reaches into his boot for a gun, but his overgrown gut keeps him from executing the movement smoothly. The man standing behind you is set to shoot him, but as you watch Demitri's second, you see him doing the same. This was not part of the plan. You react quickly and pull the snub nose from your chest and shoot him in the face as his arm starts to whip around toward Alfie. The man behind you shoots quickly after that and its impact sprays you with blood and visceral, it wasn’t pleasant but it was part of the plan.

You stand immediately and point your gun at Niko's face. “WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?!” You demand, shouting at him.

“What was what?” He asks with wide eyes.

“Roma was pulling a gun on Alfie! I fucking saw it!” You shake the gun in anger. Then everyone, including Alfie stands and aims at the Greeks that were left. Alfie directly at Niko. They were severely outnumbered and would not be fast enough even if they did have guns.

“He was hesitant to the idea of him stepping down.” He says with broad gesturing hands, his voice too collected for your liking.

“So you were going to let him shoot him?! You conniving sack of shit! You don’t get your way and you think you can just go bloody shooting everyone? Did you think if you killed him you’d get me then? Did you, you blubbering fool?!” You shout and feel Alfie's hand on your back, grounding you. Even in the middle of you screaming threats at a man that had perhaps not actively tried to kill him, but also was all too casual in his acceptance of the fact, he felt protective over you. Letting you know you should consider what comes out of your mouth next.

Niko stands with his brother and the other second, both of which clearly weren’t in on the plan from the looks on their faces. “I didn’t PLAN it, no but I knew it might be possible he tried to retaliate. And you took care of it didn’t you?” He snarls back.

“Get the fuck out.” Alfie says gesturing to the back door with his gun. “Ya pay Ollie the rest of the fuckin' money and ya get the fuck out. Our workin' together is fuckin' over, you understand me?” He asks with that supernatural ability to intimidate. The two others are already at the door paying. Niko walks backward slowly. “You come anywhere near my Genevieve again and I’ll fucking shoot you. I don’t care if it’s in the middle of the fucking market in broad daylight. You don’t come near her.”

“Oh, you hear that Gen? You’re HIS now eh? Like some Property?” He tries to counter.

“THAT'S BECAUSE I FUCKING AM HIS!” You boom out before Alfie can respond with something besides a snort. “You wouldn’t know a thing about love though would you? You selfish dog.”

“Would I not Gen? Or perhaps I do and that’s the problem?” He counters before exiting.

”You aren’t capable of it! You have shown that tonight with no doubt! You have no one to blame but yourself for your loneliness now. You miserable, egotistical little prick!” You spit out, lowering your gun.

“As you wish sweetheart.” He says, bowing out of the door.

You hand the gun to the man who shot Demitri without taking your eyes off the doorway, your blood still boiling hot.

“Police are on their way.” He says with a solemn nod to you and Alfie puts his gun back into his trousers.

“Ya alright love?” He asks, holding your face. “What did that fucker say before you came in 'ere?”He asks with narrowed eyes, making your flushed, furious face focus. 

You struggle to control the having of your chest. “He asked if he could steal me away from you.” You grit out.

“Fuck me.” He growls, staring at the now empty doorway. “I knew I couldn’t trust that little bastard.” He whispers. “I’m sorry love.” He says sincerely. There’s a bang at the metal doors. “Ya capable of doin' 'is?” He asks with a face that didn't show sweetness but of concern for business.

“Of course I fucking am.” You growl, jerking out of his grasp and he feels a thrill of lust surprise him. You take a deep breath, teeth bared as you let out a blood-curdling scream before collapsing to the ground in tears, hands touching your face and chest in disbelief as Alfie dropped to comfort you.

He gives the nod to the men to open the doors. “We was havin’ a meal together when they just bloody opened fire on us!” He exclaims. “Scared me missus absolutely silly. Poor things in fits! Look at her!” His voice inflecting high and wildly, gesturing to you as you sob and gasp and choke and look at your shaking hands and try to frantically wipe the blood off.

“Get her out of here, no lady should have to see this.” The policeman says as he helps you to your feet, and Alfie walks you back to his office with you stumbling along beside him. You sob and carry on until the doors are closed and he’s led you to the couch.

I will now wonder if anything you say or do again is genuine.” He says in a light-hearted way, placing a washcloth in the basin and wringing it out as he eyeballs you from across the table.

“I told you I could do it.” You say with a less angry face, taking the cloth offered and wiping your face.

“I never doubted ya.” He says, pulling a chair up as he helps pick pieces of brain and skull from your hair. You pick under your nails and he wipes the rest of your face off for you, rubbing at your pulled back hairline to clean you up. “There she is.” He says, resting the cloth back into the now pink water. “Although even covered in blood I admit you’re gorgeous.”

“Maybe even particularly covered in it.” You huffed out a small laugh.

“Now let's trudge through what happened back there, yeah?” He says more seriously. “Clearly somefin' happened before you came into 'at room.” He rests his elbows on his knees and leans in to speak quietly.

“Don’t you need to go talk to the police?” You ask, rubbing away at a spot on your dress.

“If they need me they’ll come get me. Best we play it safe while we can, eh? Now stop distractin' me and tell me.” his face wearing a knowing smirk at your attempts to avoid this conversation.

“He asked about us. It was simple really. He asked if you and I were together when he went to those parties with me.” You let out a heavy sigh. “Because he tried to kiss me” you begin.

“Fuckin' knew it” he groans and turns his head away, mouth in a tight line.

“He didn’t get anywhere near close to doing it. And we weren’t speaking so...” you scold him before he gets needlessly territorial.

“Don’t matter to me, love. Any man that tried to come at ya when I’s away is someone I’m gonna have my eye on, yeah?”

“Then add all the single Jewish men in London to that list.” You roll your eyes and slouch.

“Full of ourselves are we?” He asks with an amused expression.

“No, I mean that literally.” You say with pursed lips. “After I was in the paper and began speaking at places I received so many letters inquiring about courtship. The lines they wrote. Oi vey.” You stick out your tongue to show your distaste and sigh.

“Ya serious?” his brows raise with his inquiry.

“Yes! It was a free for all. They all descended with their flowers and their gifts and letters. Some even showed up to the house but I had Claire shoo them away for poor manners.” you shake your head in annoyance to the thought.

“Fuckin ell” he shakes his head. “And you didn’t reply to none of 'em?”

“Absolutely not.” You Shake your head fast. “I didn’t want them did I?” You tilt your head obviously at him.

He gives you a warm smile before tapping your nose. “You are trying to distract me with sweet words and it innit gonna work pet.” he pouts his lips at you.

“All of those men, I had Niko go with me on three occasions to events so I wouldn’t be bombarded like I was at my first because I was alone. The only other man that spoke to me of having me to my face was Cyrus Horne but you know how bloody disgusting that man is.” You wrinkle your nose.

“Horne? What the fuck did he do? Ya never mentioned no Horne before.” His eyes narrow.

“Because he was being entirely gross and I left the conversation when he tried to tell me he’d have me. And of course, he only had lovely things to say about you.” You roll your eyes.

“He’s dangerous love. If he speaks to you again you tell me, yeah? He’s a crafty bastard and I don’t want 'im anywhere near you.”

“Understood. I don’t want him near me either. He gives me a headache and nausea. He’s entirely awful.” your face a clear show of your distaste for the man.

“Entirely.” He says seriously. “Now what of the lad Niko? I need to know where we stand.”

“He told me I didn’t need you that I should be with him, all that sort of shite. I told him I never lied to him... and I did not. I was very clear and said I was not looking to be with anyone. But he seemed to take it personally when I told him. He thought I’d lied about being with you while I went out with him. And not “went out” You know what I mean. But why on earth would I go somewhere with him while with you? Makes no sense.” your voice shoots upward in your irritation.

“Seems the apple don't fall far from the tree in 'at family. Perhaps he’s not as level headed as he appeared.” his voice lower and more thoughtful.

“I’m disappointed in myself for not seeing it. But he behaved himself entirely when we went out. His behavior was very surprising to me tonight.” You enthuse. “I got a little carried away yelling at him but the thought of him trying to shoot you over me just made my blood boil something fierce.” your lips tense and your head shakes quickly.

“You were wild. I saw it in your eyes.” He nods.

“I won’t stand by while someone tries to hurt you darling. I won’t.” You say, taking his hands I to yours.

“And I you love. Believe me. If they’d pulled the gun on you instead we’d be knee deep in dead fuckin' Greeks.” He says with a quirk of his brow.

“So you see why I was so volatile. His words beforehand caught me off guard, but I’ll be damned if I don’t see a bastard twitch and try to draw.”

“I believe the reaction to not be past what was warranted. A bit strong from the get but...” he shrugs. “This is you we’re talking about. Raw heart you are.”

“The only way I know. Either open totally and exposed or closed entirely.”

“Ya okay now? Not goin' to have any spells of residual hysteria?” He asks, rubbing his hand across your cheek.

“The screaming and crying helped get it all out.” You nod. “I feel oddly calm for what happened back there.”

“Good.” He kisses your forehead. “Then might I say you were bloody brilliant out there?” He gives you a soft smile. “Better actin' than what he saw in Paris, that.” He grins.

“I have a flair for the dramatic.” you give a soft smile.

“I bloody know!” He chuckles. "At first I didn't' care that much for it, but then I saw it weren't comin' from a place of demandin' attention like a child. You are just naturally... big." he gestures with his hands. "A lot of heart to contain in such a small body." he says with an affectionate nod.

"It comes in handy in situations like these."

"And we will need it again." he nods. "Seems as though you being off the market has gathered more unwanted attention than I anticipated. I had assumed there would be other's in the life that wouldn't be happy about us."

"I was prepared for it as well," you say quietly. "Or I thought I was. I'll be raising my guard now." you say with a harder expression. "I've had to soften myself to allow the expression and acceptance of love. But I will need to work on separating the two."

"It is an unfortunate reality for us." he says in agreement. "Those that didn't care for me before, they certainly aren't gonna like that I'm with a woman like you." his lips purse and he looks out into the warehouse and sighs.

"A woman like me?"

"You have your money and power and skills. You have a name that can be used to influence and penetrate in places a man like me can't. You have the community on your side, and having a people behind you in a dangerous thing for your enemies. Especially when we share the same heritage, religion. It all forms strong bonds and if things were to happen to you, people would demand answers. You can't so easily be discarded."

"Ruling with love and fear." you say with a slow nod.

"Precisely. You are the love, I am the fear. And with that combination, we are a threat. Outside of the most basic instincts of men of jealousy. Which I will be happy to address alone, believe me." he raises his brows, the possessiveness he feels for you coming over his face. "Any bloke what thinks he can take you from me will be met with retaliation, darling. And it will be fuckin' heavy-handed." his voice dips lower, his nature to be dominant showing.

"We will now have the same shared enemies, Alfie. I will protect myself as well as you. People will try to tear us apart. You know this." you whisper, leaning in close.

"I do, love. I do." he nods solemnly. "It is nothin' I ain't already pondered." he sighs.

"But we are smarter. Stronger than they are together. They only know one way. The way of violence and fear. We have love. We have something more than they do. We have a women's intuition and the thousands of years of our ancestors surviving despite the odds. We have more than greed and lust to fuel us, things deeper than they understand." you speak with such certainty that he smiles and brushes his hand across your cheek. "As long as we have each other we'll never be defeated." you whisper, placing your hand over his on your cheek.

Ollie knocks before he enters, another poke of his head into the room to see you being so surprisingly tender with each other. He was warmed by it, Alfie was much easier to work with when he had you in his life. "The police have left. I'll have the boys clean up the mess then?" he asks.

"Yeah, mate, of course." Alfie nods and turns his face towards him.

"Should I call the car for you?" he inquires.

"Yeah, call it on up. I believe we've had enough for the night." he turns to face you. "'Aven't we love?"

"Certainly." you agree.

Ollie leaves with a polite bow out of the room.

"Let's go home, Genevieve." Alfie sighs out, kissing you softly on the lips.

"We can celebrate by doing the one thing all our enemies can't." you suggest sweetly.

"What's'at?" he asks with an amused purse of his lips.

"Be happy." you say with an almost childlike smile beaming at him.

"Then we shall do exactly that." he nods and stands, holding out his hand to help you up. "And allow me to indulge in workin' out me anger for what unplanned events went down tonight in ways that would make the offender weep." he lets out a dark chuckle, pulling you to his chest.

"Oh yes." you let out a girlish laugh at his flirting, his hand sliding down to cup your bum. "You are welcome to remind me how I am yours." you purr with a cheeky wrinkle of your nose. "And I insist you be heavy-handed." your voice dips low and you share a laugh that ends with a content hum against each other's lips.


	65. Stuck In The Middle With You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song for the chapter is Stuck In The Middle With You by Stealers Wheel.  
> Gen's father reaches out to her in a new way. A slice of domesticity with Alfie and Gen having tea in the bakery.

You decide to spend a rather lovely spring day out with Claire and Aggie. You walk about the market, casual with your purchases, each of you with a wicker basket in hand, happy to be out of your winter dresses. You wore a sweater around you to shield from the still brisk breeze that passes through the late morning air. You stop in for early tea in a quaint little shop before bobbing in and out of stores and boutiques. By almost one, you're hungry again and wandering around Fortnum and Mason wasn't helping. 

You see a charming Victoria sponge sitting in a glass case, raspberries and whipped cream both decorated on top, within it that catches your eye. You see the price is far more than the usual price of a Victoria sponge, raspberries aren't in season. You sit and stare at the cake, and wonder how they were getting raspberries this time of year, and if not from you, who? You ask a young man covered in flour and a worker's apron as he passes. He lights up, cheerily telling you they come from a small greenhouse that sells to them in the offseason. Thus the high price for it. You nod and thank him and bite your lip as you look over the various fruits in the case. It is then you decide to become preoccupied with the thought of building a greenhouse, bringing in more money in the off season. That would be your new project for the year and you could reap the benefits the coming season. 

"Genevieve?" Aggie startles you out of the thoughts of where to put the greenhouse and how much it might cost to build and run. 

"Oh yeah, sorry Ags." you shake your head. "Distracted by this cake." you smile apologetically. 

"I'm beginning to tire, love could we possibly return home soon?"

"Don't be silly! Go on home, you don't even have to ask. I'm just dilly-dallying at this point anyway. Go on and call yourselves a car and have a bite if you'd like. I believe I'm going to take this cake to Alfie and see if he's available for tea. If not I'll head on home."

"Delightful plan. I'm sure he'd love to see you." she smiles big, always happy to hear about Alfie and anything to do with the two of you. She'd been so content the past months, knowing you were finally happy and on the road to what she saw as a proper life. 

You purchase the cake and have it wrapped in a box and set it in your basket. You depart from Claire and Aggie to walk the few blocks to the car that is still sat in the starting position of where you'd began shopping that morning. You're back to being deep in thought about a greenhouse. How much yield of berries could you have, what other plants that required more delicate care could you grow and sell now? And this was probably why you hadn't noticed the gentleman that was following you. It was your fault really.

"Miss Greene." you hear a man's voice say. And you pay no mind as here, you were not Miss Greene. "Miss Greene!" you hear more intensely called, and again you ignore it. No one here should be calling you by that name. "Miss Greene!" you hear as you feel a hand wrap around your shoulder. Instinctually you turn fast and grab his wrist and begin twisting it before you even see who it is and as you face the man you don't recognize you continue to do so as he tries to conceal his noises of pain. "I'm not here to hurt you, only speak to you." he grits out. You read him quickly, the glasses, the well pressed and clean clothes. With a weak chin and slim shoulders you read him as only a minor threat physically, so you let him go. 

You then proceed to grab him by the shoulder and yank him to the corner of a building, pushing him hard against the wall. "Who are you and what do want? What business do you have calling me Greene? It's not my name." you say with a dark tone, showing your seriousness.

"You are Genevieve Greene, yes?" he asks with a confused look on his face.

"I am Genevieve Durand. Not Greene. I no longer associate with that name." you answer coldly.

"Your father sent me." he says, wincing. 

"What do you want?" you hiss.

"He wanted me to make contact with you, speak to you myself, as I'm a representative of him."

"Again... what the fuck do you want?" you state harshly, your language catching him off guard.

"I uh... he wanted to make contact to know that you had indeed gotten his letters."

"Yes, I gave him my responses."

"I'm afraid he isn't pleased with them."

"Well that's his fucking problem isn't it?"

"I'm an indifferent party, I've only been sent by someone who works for him to reach out. I don't know the business specifically, just that he is asking you to stop."

You roll your eyes. "Stop?" you huff out a laugh and cross your arms.

"Yes. Something about who you're seeing. Apparently, he's a known criminal? Did you know this Miss?"

"I did yes." you nod with pursed lips.

"And will you stop seeing him?"

"No. My business is exactly that... MINE. I have nothing to do with my father and he should have nothing to do with me. I haven't received money from him in ages, I haven't reached out to him or my mother, or my siblings and that's what he asked of me. I'm no longer a Greene and what I do is no longer his business." 

"I believe what he wants is for you to stop seeing this gangster, Miss. Is that so much to ask?"

"For a man that exiled me from my own family? For associating with someone of a certain religion? A religion that I also am? You're fucking right it's too much to ask."

The man was clearly not aware of this part of the dealings with your father. He blinks slowly and looks around, seeming to be unsure of how to continue. "I just know I was sent to have you agree to stop seeing this man. I was told he was a criminal. A gangster, which entails all sorts of things, murder and lying, and thieving. You seem like a hardened but reasonable woman. Surely you wouldn't want to associate with such a person?"

"You don't know me. Let's get that straight right now. Neither does my father. And as far as I see it, the both of you have zero reasons to ask anything of me or tell me what to do. You tell him that I've made my decision. That I'm staying with Alfie and I'll be busy being a dirty fucking Jew as my father loves to call me and my people. I'm minding my own business and if he continues to not mind his, I will not be as gentle in my refusal to his input next time. And if he thinks he can tell Alfie what to do?" you openly laugh and shake your head. "Then he is in for a very rude awakening." you lean into the man's face with a low brow. "Tell him if he leaves me alone. I'll leave him alone. That's all there is to it. Simple." 

"So you are refusing?"

"Yes! Were you not bloody listening?" your voice raises in pitch as you tilt your head at the man.

"Then I've been informed to tell you that the next time he reaches out his methods won't be so gentle." he winces, worried you might strike him. And rightfully so. 

"Threatening his own daughter?" you suck your teeth and nod. "Sounds like the old bastard." you sigh. "Look. For what hell he has put me through, I am being more than reasonable. I've done unspeakable things to men who have done far less." you give the man a firm nod to show you mean it. You see in his eyes that he does. "I am giving him the chance to live out the rest of his life as he wants. And have me never cross his mind again." you reach up to point your finger into the man's face. "But be certain, if he threatens me again. I will not be so generous. Remind him he has not known suffering. He has not had to overcome anything in his life and that is all mine has consisted of. So believe me when I say that if he comes for me, or Alfie, he will be met with something that will knock him flat on his arse and he will not be able to recover as he lacks the skills to do so. Coincidentally his own devilish behavior has instilled within me the ability to recover and thrive. If he tries to interfere with my life, I will move past it. So he can thank himself for that."

"I will..." he sighs. "I will tell my employer, Miss." he nods. 

"Hmmph." you say with an attitude-filled nod as you purse your lips at him and watch him slink away. You cross your arms, your face tight and brow heavy as you walk to your car, you stay that way until the bakery. You decide not to bother Alfie with this nonsense. You could handle whatever came your way yourself.   
\--------  
You strut through the warehouse, heels clacking across dirt and brick. Your blue floral dress with its hem swinging about your calves was a bright juxtaposition to the warm orange hues of the steaming, so-called, bakery. Ollie is perched outside Alfie's office, as usual, arms crossed with eyes and ears on alert to the bakery as Alfie conducted business.

"Hello Gen-Miss Durand." he corrects himself. You didn't know exactly what Alfie had said to them, but the men addressed you with lowered gazes and polite nods, the only time they didn't call you Miss Durand was when the newcomers would accidentally call you Mrs. Solomons. Which you didn't mind. 

"Hello Ollie." you say cheerfully. "Will he be long?" you ask quietly as the man meets you at the desk set up by a stack of barrels outside Alfie's office. 

"Not sure. From the look on his face, he's ready to be done but the man seems a bit difficult." he says with a nod, following you to the desk. 

"Will he have a free moment for me afterward? Maybe time for tea?" you ask sweetly, hoping it might give you a more favorable answer. 

"He will. He's worked through all morning. He'll be glad to see you." he says with raised brows and a nod.

"Lovely. I've brought a nice Victoria sponge. " You say patting the box that contained it. "And these are for you." you grin and hand him a tin of biscuits.

"You dinnit have to go and do that." he says sheepishly. "Oh hell, these are the good kind." he murmurs as he inspects the round canister. 

"I know Alfie is hard on you boys, I can come in with a bit of soft to ease the violence when warranted. And from what I hear business is doing just fine on the bread front so you can all enjoy a biscuit on your break. Isn't going to hurt anyone." you say affectionately. 

"You just stay with him and that's more help than anything. Honestly." he chuckles.

"I have good news. I intend to." you say sweetly. "Are the boys on lunch? I don't hear the usual racket?"

"They are Miss." he nods, sitting on the desk.

"I'm going to go give them this tin. Don't let them see those." you point to more expensive tin in his hands. "Can't let my favoritism me known, can I?" you grin.

"Thanks again, Miss. They're on the loadin' dock, as always." he nods in their direction. 

"I'll go run these over, send Alfie after me when he's out, would you?" you call out, leaving the basket with the cake on the desk and taking the other biscuits to the workers. 

"Hello boys!" you chirp and they drop their sandwiches and stand, lowering their heads.

A unison response of "Hello Miss Durand." from them all like well-trained dogs.

"Calm down, just me." you smile and set the tin on the middle of the round table they sat at. "Brought you all a treat." you announce and clasp your hands together happily.

"Oh my missus' mum buys these on her birthday." one says excitedly. "Thank you Miss Durand." he says, reaching for the tin and popping it open.

"Not a problem at all. You playing cards?" you ask, putting a hand on your hip.

"Yes Miss." one nods.

"Got a spot for one more?" you ask walking over to an empty crate that sat around the table, just like theirs. 

They all look at each other confused. "You... uhh... yes?" they all eventually agree with their varying looks of hesitancy and surprise.

"What we playin' boys?" you ask, beginning to shuffle the cards.  
\--------------  
"Fuckin' 'ell she's burnt me out!" one man exclaims, throwing his cards onto the table. You giggle to yourself as you pull his money towards you. "Sorry Miss Durand. Didn't mean to speak like 'at in front of ya." he bows his head apologetically.

"No harm. Best language is language said with passion." you lilt and push all your winnings into a pile.

"OI!" you hear from behind you, you turn over your shoulder to see Alfie, vest over his usual white billowy shirt, stomping towards you. 

All the men around you stand and you look at them before batting your lashes up at Alfie who's eyeballing all of them.

"Should I stand too?" you chuckle, dusting off your dress.

"What the fuck is 'is?" he says, motioning with his hand to the blokes sitting at the table.

"On lunch, sir. The missus came and brought us a lovely tin of biscuits and she stayed for a few games." the oldest says, voice quick and ready to answer whatever Alfie threw his way.

Alfie looks over them, then to where you had been sitting, seeing the money in a pile and he can't help the smirk that comes to his face. "And what's this?" he asks, looking to you.

"Well I won." you grin.

Alfie hides a snort of a laugh by rubbing his nose. "You can't keep clearing out the house love, I'll start losing bodies." he says, placing a gentle hand on your arm.

"But they seem to like it when I play with them." you pout and bat your lashes at him.

He quirks up a brow and looks to the men. "Yessir." they all say in an unenthusiastic response.

"At least you know they're poor liars." you laugh and turn back to them. "I had no intention on taking your money boys." you roll your eyes and see the tension visibly leave their bodies. "Not gonna keep a child from their sweeties or a man from his drink." you say obviously. "You boys know what you lost?" you ask.

"Yes Miss." they all answer and you chuckle. 

"Of course you do. Wouldn't be working for Solomons here if you didn't would you?" you smile and look up at him.

"You go on and wait in my office you cheeky bugger." he leans in and whispers and you give him a pout for dismissing you.

He grunts and lowers his brow. "Don't give me that look Genny." he says in a low tone. The tone struck fear into the men around you but it certainly didn't you.

"What look?" you swish your skirt and smile temptingly at him.

"'At one." he says tapping your nose as you grin when he leans in close so the other men can't hear him, speaking into your ear. "The one where you make me melt and give you what you want." he whispers, looking down at you as if he were scolding you.

"If you can read me so well..." you challenge. "What do I want, right now?" you push back.

"Trouble. Innit nuffin' new there." he hides a grin but you see it in his eyes. "Go wait in the office, love." he says again much more gently.

"Don't be long." you say with a kiss to his cheek. He turns to watch you leave, loving the sight, waiting until you're out of ear shot.

He snaps back quickly to see if anyone else had been looking at you. "What the fuck are you lads doin'? What'd I say about messin' wif me missus?" he says with a low brow and crossed arms.

"We weren't doin' nuffin' sir, she's lovely." the youngest says and Alfie quirks a brow. 

The young man's mouth stutters open. "I didn't mean it like 'at, sir. She's very nice. A very nice lady." he nods aggressively.

"She brought us biscuits, she asked what we were doin' we didn't want to say no 'cause 'a her bein' yours and because she was nice enough to bring us the biscuits." the oldest explains.

"And I told ya to treat her like ya mum. You tell me... ya play fuckin' cards with ya mum?" he snarks.

"No but me bubbe and I do." the youngest says and Alfie sighs and rolls his eyes.

"Ya get ya arse handed to ya when ya play with her too?" he jokes.

"No." he shakes his head.

"You lettin' her win? Be honest." he scolds

"No!" the youngest says a little too enthusiastically and Alfie snorts out an amused sound. "I mean... no. She's... she's good." he says quietly and nods.

"She is that." the oldest concurs. 

"Good to know." Alfie nods. "Next time. Just go back to treatin' her like you were wif ya's mum's, right? Politely dismiss her. She'll cause no trouble." he says with a sigh and letting his arms go back to his sides.

"Seems rather impossible, sir. Tony's mum looks like a bull." the youngest adds.

"Oh fuck off, yours looks like those birds that hang about St Paul's." Tony barks back.

Alfie sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose. "Right lads... treat her like... angel then... yeah? Like she is already Mrs. Solomons and I'd kill you if you even looked at her cross. Because I would." he gives a heavy nod. "Treat her like SHE could fuckin' kill you for lookin' at her cross because she bloody well could, right?" he says with pursed lips. "And I wunnit fuckin' stop her." he adds with a wag of his fingers.

They'd heard the stories about you, and they knew he wasn't joking. "Yes sir." they all answer in a broken rhythm. 

"Right. Now back to fuckin' work." he orders.

"But we've still go-"

"BACK TO FUCKIN' WORK!" he roars, setting the tone back as it should be.

He saunters back to his office where you wait for him, leaning against the table. You move to put your hand on Alfie's stomach and kiss his cheek.

"What do I owe for this lovely surprise?" he asks, looking you over.

"I was in the city and found a cake I thought you'd like so I thought I'd stop by to see if you had the time to have tea." you say innocently.

"I do." he says with a pout and a nod. He nods for the tea to be brought in with a two finger demand. He sits in his chair, legs spread and pulls you down to sit on his lap. "You know you're gonna spoils those boys, love." he says with a scolding tone.

"They were just biscuits," you say defensively. "I taught them a lesson on playing cards at least." you offer with a sassy shrug. "Besides, all you do is scream at them." you let out a huff of a laugh. "Try some honey and not vinegar with them and see where it gets you, darling." your tone soft and sweet again. 

"That why they like you so much 'n not me?" he grins, faking his feelings being hurt and you snicker. 

"You need to treat the beasts with care." you say stroking his cheek.

“How’s bout treatin ya 'ol Alfie with some care then, eh?” he beckons you closer with a cocky nod of his chin and mischief in his eyes. 

"Oh my poor baby." you coo and his eyes shut, a closed mouth smile on his face. "Didn't mean to make him feel left out." you kiss his cheeks. "The boss always comes first, doesn't he? My apologies, darling. If I'd known you felt neglected I certainly would have started fussing over you sooner." you pepper his face and neck with kisses and he hums contently.

"If them's the rules, boss comin' first 'n that, that'd made you the boss wunnit?" he lets out a deep chuckle and you snort at him.

"Cheeky bugger." you giggle, rubbing your nose against his. Once he's purring like a kitten, you tell him of your plans for a greenhouse and he laughs at your ability to get inspired by a cake.

"Since you were such a thoughtful little bird, comin' 'n seein' me for tea 'n bringin' a cake as sweet as you, might I ask ya to extend that charity towards me in the form of a favor, love?" he moves his head and hands in his usual charismatic way, a firm hold on your hip with him one hand, keeping you close to him.

"Should've known that sweet talk was because you needed something." you grin, scratching his chin through his beard.

"Nah. Sweet talk comes 'cause you, love. I just so happened to have been plannin' on askin' a favor of ya anyway." he smirks.

"Sure you were Alfie." you giggle, kissing his cheek. "What is it that you need, darling?" you ask with annoyed tone but you plant another kiss to his temple. 

"There's this man that was a big to-do in the jewelry quarter, I worked with him for years, runnin' stolen merchandise through him and movin' things fast for him." he gestures with his hand vaguely. "Seems he has passed away and I need to make an appearance at the funeral." he says with his bottom lip pouting underneath his mustache. "And I fuckin' hate funerals, love. I do." he nods.

"I'm no fan myself." you shrug. "What does this have to do with me?"

"I wanted to ask if you would come with me."

"Ugh. Really?" you whine and sulk.

"Yeah, fuckin' really," he whines and imitates you, earning him a playful slap to the chest. "It's one of them big 'ol Catholic cathedrals and I thought perhaps you bein' familiar with that sorta thing, havin' you there might make it more tolerable, love. Have a show of solidarity by us both goin'."

"Don't make me go back inside a Catholic church, Alfie." you sigh. "So many years spent being caned by nuns, I'm afraid I might have an episode if I had to hear Latin again and feel the air heavy with guilt." you roll your eyes and chuckle.

"Think of it as an excuse to give a real, fuck you to 'em then, love." he grins. "You not bein' one with Christ no more 'n all." he shrugs. "Thought you might wanna show off in somethin'. Ya look awfully stunnin' in black."

"You are a silver-tongued serpent Alfie." you scold and he grins boyishly.

"But ya do. And I can introduce to you loads of my jewelry mates, can't I? You can put some faces to names, yeah? You've even said yourself you should make more London contacts here in the quarter. I know lots of men that'll get rid of stolen jewels for ya, Gen." he inflects his voice upward, trying to use logic over flattery to convince you.

You hum uncertainly. "I'm not sure..." you say with a finger to your lips, eyes up and roaming the ceiling as if you were in thought.

"Cheeky little thing." he chuckles. "I"ll make it worth your while, yeah? How's about some sexual favors, eh? That something ya fancy?"

"You know me too well, Alfie. You're dangerous." you laugh and sigh.

"Come with me and I'll make it so you the next day you couldn't walk anywhere, let alone into a church after what I've done to ya. Yeah?" he grins and winks, pinching your bum, fingers tickling up your thighs and making you squirm.

"Ask me nicely." you giggle and sit up straight, smiling smugly. "Ask me proper and I'll say yes." your smile grows to show your teeth.

"Oh my sweet little Chanah." he laments, running his hand down the side of your face. "Would you do me that great pleasure of accompanying me to this event, so I can show you off? I would personally consider it such a favor to me, yeah? If you would please, come with me this funeral, love." he pulls your face in closer to him and your smiles each grow at the cheekiness you were both giving in to. 

"I'll go with you." you say hesitantly but you kiss him anyway. 

"Thank you, you absolute angel." he coos and gives you a noisy smooch.

"Sounds like I'll be no angel after you're through with me." you coo and flirt.

"Did you not know?" he feigns surprise. "You're already the bloody devil, I was just bein' funny." he grins.

You laugh from deep in your stomach, the slightest slap to his cheek as he beams at you before holding your hand and bringing your laughing mouths together. "You're a right bastard, Alfie." you chuckle and he wraps his arms around you, deepening the kiss.

"Well the devil and a bastard seem like a perfect pairin' to me, love." he hums against you, beginning a heated little snog in his lap before Ollie interrupts, as the poor lad always has to, telling him his next meeting would be in soon. "Fuckin' thanks as always, mate." Alfie grumbles, waving him off. " Always interruptin' me at the good parts, innit he?" he says staying close to your face. 

"Maybe next time we should just fuck on your desk, absolutely starkers and see if he stops after that." you titter.

"Ahhhh." Alfie gruffs out in a scolding tone. "Gonna have to get some blinds put up in here innit we?" he chuckles. "'Cause I would love nothin' more than to bend you over and fuck you on top of last month's accounts love, believe me." he grins and you give him another kiss as your rise off his lap. 

"We'll save it for later then?" you lilt, straightening your skirt. "Get some blinds put up and we'll see what sort of naughtiness we can get into in here," you say walking over to his desk, you bend over slightly as if to look at the papers. "A bit of role play could always be fun." you give a coy shrug. "Mr. Solomons... I'm afraid I made a mistake on last months accounts... I know I deserved to be punished just... be gentle, please? I know you're such a rough man." you stick your bum out and soften your voice and a wicked laugh erupts from him.

"You are a fuckin' dirty little girl innit ya?" he groans, grabbing a handful of your arse tightly and putting his hand to your cheek. "Gonna leave me with a fuckin' hard knob to greet the next lad? Rude." he laughs and kisses you gently for his tone used. 

"Be sure to bring it next time you see me and I'm certain we'll find something to do with it." you smirk and grab his bum back. "Now let me go before someone see's." you giggle as he makes growling noises into your neck and pecks you aggressively with kisses.

"Let 'em fuckin' watch..." he says loudly and playfully as your laugh rises in volume and you push him away before scampering towards the door with a happy smile on your face.

"Mr. Solomons. What would you wife think?" you say with fake shock.

"Oh you filthy bird!" he laughs. "You gonna get yaself in trouble little Miss." he scolds and wags a finger at you. 

"I'm always lookin' for trouble aren't I darling? That's what you keep tell me anyway." you shrug coyly and he meets you in a final embrace, an affectionate and short kiss. 

"You are trouble incarnate, Genevieve. And I love ya for it." another noisier smooch granted to you.

"I love you too." you coo back, another quick peck. "I'll see you at the church, darling. Until then..." you say pulling away, tapping your finger to his nose. "Behave." you playfully scold. 

"Fuckin' useless innit?" a wrinkle of his nose as he grins mischievously at you. He sighs, forearm on the door as he watches that round bum of yours strut down the path to the door. "Ugh. Fuckin' love that little woman." he chuckles, mumbling to himself before he turns back into his office


	66. Your Sins Will Find You Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song for the chapter is Your Sins Will Find You out by Eli Paperboy Reed.  
> NSFW. This is a smutty chapter I'd wanted to challenge myself to do. 
> 
> ****IF YOU WOULD BE OFFENDED BY BLASPHEMY WITH CHRISTIANITY AND/OR CATHOLICISM...DO NOT READ THIS.****
> 
> Because this is all about a former Catholic letting out her pent up rage for it and her father by fucking her Jewish boyfriend in a confessional and having a nasty mouth while he role plays as a priest. Alfie and Gen are naughty. Let us never forget that. Amen.

You meet him at the church, a large and old cathedral that apparently matched the importance of the man who had passed. You hadn't known him but knew he was a big deal in the jewelry quarter, and if he was important enough for Alfie to feel the need to be seen at the funeral you figured it was important enough to dress up for. 

Granted, it certainly felt correct to walking into a Catholic church in all black for the first time in over thirteen years. As was your intention, heads turn when you walk in and you feel a tingling sense of naughtiness pass over you. Perhaps it was that Catholic guilt that had been beaten into you over the years through corporal punishment. The wild years you'd spent beating that guilt away with the same actions that put it into in the first place come to mind, you slink about the stone and stained glass in the entryway, looking for Alfie.

You watch his face change when he sees you, and it does more for you than endless heads turning in any room could. Your dress, a high necked, long sleeved and floor-length black gown. Sheer coverage over a solid black bodice and skirt clung to your filled out feminine form, your jeweled handbag clutched in your grasp as you sauntered over towards him, his eyes looking over you as the men he's speaking to turn to see what's caused an uncharacteristic silence from Alfie.

You looked like an angel of death, walking into the room the way you did. Your hair plaited and pulled around to one side, a jeweled clasp containing the soft mass of it. Your earrings sparkled, catching the light from the stained glass windows in their multitude of colors. He clears his throat as you approach, outstretching his hand to place on your back in a subtle statement of possession. "'Ello darling," he says softly with a mutual nod as you stand like a statue by his side as he introduces you. "Gentlemen, this is my lovely Miss Genevieve Durand," he spoke smoothly, you loved the pride you could hear in it in its gruffness. "This is Mr. Doyle, Mr. Callahan. Jewelers both and Doyle is an old school mate of mine." he elaborates as you extend your hand to eldest first.

"Mr. Callahan." you give a polite nod and curtsy to them both as they shake your hand, seemingly unsure of the boldness of the gesture from a woman, and possibly hesitant to touch something seemingly owned by Alfie. "Mr. Doyle. Lovely to meet you both."

"Miss." they both respond politely.

"Might I say your jewels are pristine, Miss Durand." Mr. Callahan says.

"You may." you give him a friendly smile to break the tension. "And thank you. I take great pride in them." you return your hands to your purse in front of you.

"Would you excuse us?" Alfie says, a hand lightly on your elbow to pull you towards the large, daunting wooden doors that led into the arched peaks of the cathedral.

"Something the matter?" you whisper, recognizing the acoustics of the room would be awe-inspiring.

"No, no," he says with a shake of his head. "Just wanted a moment with you before..." he gestures vaguely with his hand to the pulpit. "...all this begins." he huffs out. You walk leisurely past statues and towering examples of art in the room as you speak softly, moving among the attendees with polite nods. "I must say you look stunning." he expresses closely to your ear.

"Thank you darling." you bat your lashes at him. "You look handsome as always. Did you trim your beard?" you ask, refraining from running your fingers through it.

"I did, ever the observant one." he chuckles. "You look like the angel sent down to retrieve the man in question today from his final resting place. A portrait of the angel of dark and light, love." he muses.

"You speaking of beauty in such a macabre way will do things to me Alfie, you know this." you smirk at him.

"As it should. Perhaps if death had looked like this I wouldn't have fought so hard to stay alive during the wars, eh?" he gives a cheeky grin and the thrill of the discussion in such a morbid way was causing your face to blush. "You've been paintin' me as deities but if I were a painter, yeah? I'd be paintin' you exactly like 'is. Like a female Abaddon, dripping in all black, joining with the abyss. Oh, what fire and destruction you could bring, my love." he whispers. "Never full so the eyes of man are never satisfied." he recites and you blush deeper shades as those soft lips seduce you with their silver tongue accomplice. 

"If you keep charming me in such a way we both very well may burst into flames in this church." you hold back a giggle that threatened to break the solemn silence of the dark atmosphere. "Trying to seduce me at a funeral. My word, Alfie." you playfully scold, a gentle smack to his chest. "Have my lurid curiosities started rubbing off on you?" you question.

"More interesting in rubbin' off on you, love." he says without making eye contact, an entirely casual delivery that makes you cover your mouth to stifle the laugh.

"Alfie Solomons." you hiss with wide eyes and pursed lips to hide your smile.

"Wot?" he grins and it charms you entirely.

"You should stop enabling me, who knows what'll happen if you keep talking like that."

"I know what'll happen." he nods and leans in close. "And it has been nearly two weeks since I've been with you and I have to say I welcome whatever that aberrant brain of yours can come up with." he gives you cocky nod of his head.

"Is that a challenge?" you ask with raised brows.

"It's whatever you want it to be love." he coos.

You sit through the lengthy service and behave, the smoke and costume bringing back flashes of your childhood. Alfie quirks his eyebrow at you when you recite the readings, you ignore him, you couldn't help that they'd been engraved into your psyche by cold and brutal nuns that would lash at your hands if you didn't recite them properly. Your hands started to ache just at the thought. This all led you back to your father and thinking about the man that had spoken to you fills you with a deep annoyance you try to keep from turning into red hot anger. But the lingering effects of Alfie's cheeky words stay with you, you can feel it every time you shift your thighs. It brings back an old and familiar feeling, that naughtiness you felt so often when you were younger that couldn't be contained. That want to rebel, to be bad and revel in it. You let your anger fuel it, planning what you might do to indulge in it. It'd been so long since you'd gotten up to some good old fashioned naughtiness, perhaps it was time to get back in touch with your sexually adventurous side again since you had a singular man to cater to your whims now. And he certainly seemed enthusiastic to do so.

Alfie can see the tension around your eyes, the way they looked out far past the priest who was speaking. He wasn't sure what the cause of it was, but when he reaches out to put his hand on your thigh your eyes flutter out of their trance and you take a deep breath and smile at him softly. You scoot closer, he puts his arm over your shoulders and your cross your legs towards him. You let your hand rest on his thigh to plant the seed in his head that you might do more. But you resist. You rest against him, your thumb moving back and forth slightly on occasion, leaving him wondering about your motive.

It is announced the cemetery that the man will be taken to and it is asked for everyone to clear out, with instructions given on who to follow to get there. As the front moves out first, once the procession gets back to you, you reach out and takes his arm gently to keep him close and before you reach the doors, you step to the side and grip his arm, he looks to you and moves out of the stream of people. You say nothing and neither does he, nodding and waiting as the others filed out. Soon the room was empty.

"You alright, love?" he whispers, leaning into your side.

You shake your head, but your eyes don't read as upset and he lets out a low groan before a mischievous smile comes across your lips. You wait until you hear the front doors close, peaking around the doorway to see only one person left, a very elderly woman who was making her way up the stairs.

"Gen," he whispers, getting your attention. "What are you doin'?" he narrow his eyes at you.

"Having a little fun." you say turning and letting a purposely seductive smile comes across your face. You walk up to him, hands sliding under his coat. "You want to have some fun with me Alfie?" you ask, batting your lashes at him, raising your chin to meet his face.

"What ya got in mind?" a deep, masculine chuckle escapes him.

"I'm feeling rather naughty." you begin with a pout. "Rather lustful. Sinful really." you purr. "You want to play a bit of pretend with me? I've never fucked in a church and I find myself feeling a bit devilish in here..." you grin. "Father." you let out a deep giggle and your tongue peaks out from between your teeth.

"Ah, child." he nods, catching on immediately, but of course he would. "What can I help you with?" he takes your face into his hands, speaking low and slow to you.

"I need to make a confession," you say, pulling away and walking towards the confessional booth that lay in a secluded hallway in a wing off of the main, highly decorated cathedral. "Would you hear me out, Father?" you ask, opening the door to what would be his side of the wooden booth, your back arched and pressed against the door.

"That I would." he says with that deep velvet tone that touches you in your most intimate places.

You move to the other side of the booth and sit, hands in your lap, the space smaller than you remember, the lights filtering in from the tinted glass top, a suited red wash over the cubicle. "Forgive me Father. For I have sinned. It has been... thirteen years since my last confession." you let out a chuckle that is purely you and not part of the role-playing you were partaking in.

He slides open the barrier, the lattice separating the two of you. You can see his intimidating silhouette also bathed in red light. He leans back against the wall. Trying to recall everything he knew about Catholicism. “Please tell me of your sins." He begins with simply.

“I accuse myself of lust, Father.” Your voice quiet and breathy, making the hairs on his arms prickle up at attention. “You see... there is this man.” He feels the corner of his mouth pull back into a smile. “He does things to me. Makes me feels things. Gives me the most perverse thoughts. Sinful and adulterous things, Father.” You whisper.

"What thoughts, I must know the nature of your sins." you can tell by his low and breathy tone that you're having an effect on him.

"Sodomy," you whisper. "I want him everywhere, Father. All the time. In the most unnatural of ways." your words and low tone travel over his skin and make his cock twitch to attention. "I get so turned on thinking about him wasting the gift of life in my mouth just so I can taste him that I pleasure myself to the thought." you run your hands down your chest, stimulating your hard nipples, listening to his heavy breathing just a short distance away. “I know it is wrong, Father. I know I should stay away from a man that makes me lose control the way he does. But I cannot. I know he’s bad. Not only for my salvation but he is a criminal, Father as well. Bad for me because he inspires such lustful yearning. Bad for himself for what he does. And oh... does it makes me wet thinking of the evil he does.” you practically moan, hearing him shift next to you.

“Why would you associate with a man like this, child?” an almost dopey smile on his face, he grunts and move his hips to undo the button on his trousers.

“Because I like being bad.” You purr. “I like that he’s a criminal. A thief. A liar. A murderer. All these things are sins I must also ask for forgiveness for. But none as much as my sins of the flesh. I’ve never met a man like him. When he touches me it makes me so hot it’s as if his fingers were the licking flames of hell come up to devour us both in our sin. I find myself at worship of him instead of Christ." you bite your lip and start the pull your skirt up your thighs with a low hum.

“A man who inspires blasphemy is no man to be with.” he groans, his hand moving under his clothes to rub at himself.

“But that is what makes it so delicious, Father. I am a filthy sinner and I’ve come to confess it. I love him and I love how he possesses me. He makes me his whore, Father. And I must confess these sins because they consume me mind, body, and soul just as he has.”

“And you are looking to be cleansed of your sins?” his head rests back, eyes closed as his hand moves slowly up and down his hard cock.

“Yes, Father. Cleanse me of my lustful sins.” you whine, your hand rubbing yourself over your knickers.

“You know I have the power to absolve you. And your sins are grave, child.” he says through gritted teeth, the filthy words still floating around his lust hazed mind.

“They are Father. I feel I must be punished for them.” you hear him grunt and you slip your fingers under your pants, sliding them down your legs.

“You must repent. Then I will forgive you and you will be cleansed.” he smirks, his tongue flicking out over his open lips, hand unintentionally tighter now around himself.

“What must I do Father?” You play up, a wicked smile on your face as you spread the growing wetness up and down your soft slit.

“You must kneel.” he says in a demanding tone that makes you whimper

“To pray Father?” you ask innocently.

“To worship.” He states certainly and you shut your eyes with a heavy exhale. “You must come here, child. Your sins are so grave I must lay my hands on you to see the proof of your sin myself.” you let out a low growl of pleasure for the demand.

“Anything you say, Father.” You slip out of the booth, a quick look around to find no one around before you slowly back into his side of the confessional.

He sits with his cock out, hand loose and teasing around it. You turn and act surprised and he is smitten with by your acting once again.

“Father!” You say with an accusation, your lips and tongue moving slowly, eyes fixated on his hand, shaking his cock at you.

“You’ve told me of what a whore you can be. I want you to embrace it, purge it all here and now. Show me what a whore you are so I will know what punishment will serve you.”

You drop to your knees and take his cock out of his grasp. ”Will this grant me forgiveness?” you whisper licking your lips only a breath away from him, looking into his dark eyes, mouth set in a wicked smile.

“Only I have the power to make that decision. And if you truly wish to be absolved, I will know through your actions." his eyes stare into yours as you ghost your lips across the underside of his cock. "So show me."

"What a whore I am for him?" you ask, lips moving back down his length.

"Yes." he nods and rests his hands at his sides, a challenging look on his face.

You close your eyes and stick out your tongue, a broad lick across his balls as his nostrils flare. You do as he asks, the thrill of the crude words, the power he was holding over you in this scenario all drove you forward. You take his balls into your mouth, humming as your lips suck at the soft flesh. You return your gaze to him, a long open-mouthed lap up his cock before taking him down and into your throat. He releases a noise that tells you you're doing well. He brushes a few fallen pieces of hair from your face, his hand waiting, resting lightly on your head. You keep quiet as best you can, knowing the door was latched, but that was all the protection you had against any intrusion. You bob on him deeply, lips gripping and tongue swirling, the wet sucking noises, and your gasping breaths as you popped off him the only sounds. The heat started to build in the small location, you could feel the sweat starting to form on your spine and between your legs as they were pushed together in the small space.

He grips you by your braid at the base of your head, pulling your head back and tapping his cock against your lips that were set in a wicked smile before extending out your tongue and panting for him. "If you want my forgiveness and my absolution, you must do what I ask of you." his tone was deep and dark, eyes giving you no reason to be drawn out of the fantasy.

"Am I not proving what a whore I am?" you ask with batting lashes, such a juxtaposition to how you were gagging on his cock just moments before. "Forgive me," you whisper, taking his hands and placing them on either side of your face. "Use me." you ask of him, "Fuck my face. I want you to." you say with pouted lips before your long lashes flutter shut, casting shadows as you take him down again, shaking your head once you reach the base of him.

"Fuck." you hear him groan out, trying to stay quiet. He grabs your head, fingers in your pulled back hair, as his hips begin to move himself in and out of your mouth, feet pushing hard into the floor as he picks up speed. You welcome it, keeping your lips taut and your throat relaxed, still sucking at him, breathing through your nose and making gagging noises as he ventured far into you. He stops as he feels the saliva follow a hard gag, lifting your head up to make sure he wasn't hurting you.

"Don't stop." you say with the tip of his cock in your mouth and he growls, you moan as he goes right back to it, swearing under his breath. He doesn't want to finish in your mouth, even if you'd confessed to loving it. He wants to give you something more, up close and personal to thank you for what was one of the more twisted fucks he'd ever had. He pulls you off of him again, this time one handed with a fist full of hair.

You look a mess and you know it, your eye makeup smudged with watery eyes, lipstick nowhere to be seen now except at the base of his cock. With spit strung from your mouth to his cock, hanging from your chin he swears at the sight. "You shouldn't swear, Father." you say through heavy panting and he gives your cheek a firm but not even stinging slap. "Am I being punished?" you ask with half lidded eyes and a smile that makes his balls tighten in its naughtiness.

"Not yet." he snarls out, moving you both in the small space. "Up." he says, hand still on your hair and pulling you to your feet. You both circle, switching spots in the booth as he reaches behind you to grab the chair he'd been sitting in after peaking outside to the body of the church to check for anyone being around. He knew with what he planned to do to you, that you wouldn't be keeping quiet on your own.

He shut and latches the heavy wooden door behind him with a daunting and echoing sound. He presses you against the back wall, the sturdiest and most quiet of the four offered to you. He presses himself against you, holding you tight by the chin. "Do you believe yourself to have repented enough, child?" he gruffs out, nose grazing your jaw as you hum in excitement as you lick your lips.

"I do not." you shake your head and give him the largest and most innocent eyes you can afford given the state you were in.

"And do you think you have shown me the extent of your lustful sins?"

"I do not." you answer the same.

"Then lift up the lovely dress." you gather it in your hands, fisting handfuls of black fabric to your hips. "Such a modest thing only a lady would wear. And you are no lady." He shakes his head and hums in a low register "I think your sins deserve more punishment." he grunts, yanking your leg up around his hip hard, a rough grasp on your thigh.

"Yes." you breathily whisper. "I still feel the lust controlling me." you purr.

"Is it? You're being awfully well contained." he whispers back, judgmental and scolding, the back of is hand running up your thigh to your hip.

"Then I will act upon it," you state clearly. "I'm aching for your cock. This little cunt is dripping for you, Alfie. I want your hands on me to be bruising, to show me how naughty I've been. To mark me as your property. I'm here to serve your lust and be shamed for mine, aren't I? Then treat me like some little strumpet. Use me. I'm your little whore, Alfie. Treat me as such." you whimper and whine, your lips ghosting against his. You reach down and stroke his cock, pushing the head against your soft wet folds.

His nostrils flare, a bull emerging with broad shoulders and punishing hands to wrap around your neck, giving it a squeeze as you play up trouble breathing. "I love that filthy mouth you have Genevieve. You dirty girl." he groans. "The things you make me want to do to you, love. Worth going to hell for." he rasps. "You make me more beast than man." he huffs air out of his nostrils and you feel the heat of it across your skin.

"Show me." you rasp out, beckoning him with wet, parted lips.

A sharp slap to your cheek surprises you. "You aren't the one making demands here," he whispers sharply. "You are here to receive me. Receive my forgiveness."

"Fill me with your love and light. Cleanse me with your forgiveness, please." you ask of him, lashed batting at him with innocence to the motion, but the way your tongue flicked across your lips show it to be anything but. "Free me." you whisper, rocking your hips against the head of his rock that had been teasing at your clit. "Show me what bliss your forgiveness grants."

"What a debauched creature you are." he moans, giving in to a harsh kiss. You feel him move fast, a sharp slap to your lips before grabbing your hips and pushing your front against the wall. You hear a brief rustling of your dress before you feel him hard and hot between your cheeks. He gives you a few stern slaps with his cock, a single run down your folds before pushing into you. He groans at the feeling, being able to sense how much you were enjoying this taboo romp as well, as he slid inside you with hardly any resistance.

Of course, you moan and it as always one of the most gorgeous sounds he'll ever hear but he slaps his hand over your mouth, the other hard on your hip, keeping them pulled away from the wall with your back arched as he pumped into you. "Gotta keep quiet, can't have the other's knowing of what a sinner you are, can we little lamb?" he hisses before a sharp slap to your arse. You let out little whimpers against his palm with each thrust, your tongue lapping at the hot skin. "Can't have one bad girl lead the rest of the flock astray can we?" he whispers before taking your earlobe between his lips, looming over you.

You murmur a response against his hand, but it doesn't matter now. He scolds you for making noise, grunting with every pound into you. He hits hard, only breaking to pull you apart, your mouth gaping open from the release, both his hands on your arse and wobbling it, watching himself move in and out of you, seeing himself slick with your wetness. "Oh fuck." you whisper, pressing your hand flat against the stable wall.

"No swearing from you, Genevieve. Naughty girl. Else I'll have to fuck that pretty little mouth of yours again." You respond with a noise of want, his fingers tighter now into the bouncing flesh of your lower half. Your tongue lolls out, the pressure building inside you, this angle always fulfilling you, especially with his adept hands and mouth to accompany it. "That what you want? Wash that hot, pink mouth out with my spunk, eh?"

"Want you to-oh, please come inside me." you whine and his eyes roll back in his head.

"That what she wants?" he lets out a devilish deep chuckle. "Full this little cunny up with me? Make your take all 'a me? Eh?" he spanks you hard and you tense and squeal, his mouth open and panting. "Leave you drippin' with it like the little whore you are for me, yeah? Gettin' fucked like this... by a man like me. You are fuckin' filthy and fuckin' love you for it." he rushes out, pushing his hips out. "Could watch me cock fuck you like this all fuckin' day love. Fuckin' perfect little flower innit ya? And this tight... little... arse of yours." He swipes his thumbs over the tensing hole and you shudder. "Fuckin' dirty girl." he whispers. He leans over you, teeth on your earlobe as he pants hot and heavy against your skin, his fingers pushing into your mouth to silence you, but you moan and starting sucking away and spanks you again. "You were askin' for it, Genny. What kinda woman would you be, eh? Gettin' buggered like this? Ought to just to teach ya a fuckin' lesson." his thumb presses against your arsehole again and your thighs shudder, moaning around his fingers again. "And you want it? Fuck me..." he rasps out, picking up speed and making you whimper, wet swollen lips around his fingers as he held your chin. Thumb circling, spreading your abundant wetness to allow his thumb to slide into you.

"Oh fuck." you moan out against his fingers.

"I 'eard that one, yeah?" he lets out a deep groan into your ear, you hear him huff into it, voice growing rougher. "All your holes filled little one." he taunts. "Showin' me what a whore you are for me... good fuckin' girl. Ya tight as fuck 'round me Genny, you gonna come, yeah?" he whispers, still hitting into you, as you hold yourself off the wall to receive as much of him as you could. "Come hard all over this cock, Gen, all fuckin' over it." he groans through gritted teeth. "You've got me so fuckin' hard, love, jesus christ." his voice cracks with the inflection. "Want you fuckin' drippin' down me fuckin' bollocks Genevieve. My lovely little whore innit ya? Just for me. A missus and a whore. Lucky. Fuckin'. Me." he snarls pressing his nose into your ear.

As it always did, his filthy mouth takes you where you need to go. He watches your eyes flutter and roll back, your hips buck, stuttering against his and it only fuels him to fuck into you harder. He wanted to have to muffle your screams, wanted to make you his by making you come so hard you cried out for him.

"Alfie." you murmur with his fingers in your mouth. He presses them farther in still.

"Don't you fuckin shout now. Else I'll have to gag you won't I?" he threatens and you moan. He thinks he hears a please to his threat and he growls, pressing his thumb in deeper, bending his knees to go as hard and fast as his body would let him.

If he didn't know your body, he would've thought something was wrong. You let your face push against the wall, drool running down his hand as he held your tongue, dripping down your chin, past those pinked lips as you made inhuman noises when he'd leave you with space to breathe. Your knees give, he presses you flat against the wall, still thrusting into you as you shake and convulse. He can feel your rings of muscle so tight around him he whines, feeling your cunt soaked for him, another wave of slick now running down his shaft and over his balls, making him throw his head back and grit his teeth to control himself. He feels your orgasm through every bit of you, your stomach spasms, thighs shivering, cunt seizing and your hands trembling against the wood they rested on. "Fuckin' 'ell Genny, yes, fuck, ya make me so fuckin' greedy for it love. Give me every last drop before I fill you back up." he pants out into your back before he can't hold back any longer. His hand moves from your mouth with a wet slick pop, a gasp from you as you bubble spit through your lips with clenched teeth to not cry out for him. He holds your hips roughly. A string on swears, you can make out "Gimme... ya... fuckin'... cunt." hissed out as he finishes inside you, a hard hit and grunt with each spasm.

You keep your noises minimal, your breathing the only loud thing in the confines of the wooden booth. Your eyes blink open with new clarity, the lust no longer blurring your vision. The red wash over your skin felt appropriate. As he came down, forehead pressing into your back, you feel him lose his tension against you, you can feel the small twitch of him inside you and you hum contently. You're hit with a moment of artistic inspiration. You envision bodies with a red wash over them, limbs against the dark grain of the wood, crosses between heavy breasts, the ends being sucked on by wet and swollen lips. Hands in prayer, pressed to bare breasts, a strong hand wrapped around the praying neck. It'd been a while since inspiration had struck you in such a way. Alfie interrupts your thoughts by clearing his throat.

"Ya okay love?" he asks, as considerate afterward as ever.

"Yes just, help me turn." you let out a huff of a laugh. He does, putting himself back into his trousers and straightening your skirt. He studies your face, licking his thumb, and wiping away the running mascara, using his handkerchief to finish the job and clear the drool from your chin.

"You look glorious in this light, Genevieve." he whispers, gentle fingers trailing down your jaw.

"You look so villainous and... beastly." you smile, tilting your head and pushing the stray strands of hair behind his ears, evening out his collar and vest. "But handsome all the same." you say with a pucker of your lips and he meets them without hesitation.

"You are a fuckin' wonder, my love." he whispers against them, now tending to your hair. "I'm the luckiest bastard alive. I know that for certain." he nods. "You are bloody brilliant. You look so fuckin'....absolutely sweet and then the things you do... oi vey Gen they're gonna kill me and I'll die with a fuckin' smile on me face." he chuckles and kisses you again.

"As long as it's me that kills you." you grin and stroke his beard. "No one else gets to kill you but me." you say with a playfully scolding tone and he lets out a deep rumbling, deeply content sound.

"No one but you, love. No one else but you." he exhales in a happy sigh.

"Because you are mine to do with as I please aren't you darling?'

"Fit to call me your whore instead." he gives a boyish chuckle.

"As long as we're only whores for each other." you nod and return the contented sound.

"Only for you." he kisses you softly. "If you feel absolved, I believe I can give a look out and see what trouble we're in." he laughs and nods his head to the door.

"Forgiven," you say with a nod. "Let's face it shall we?" you ask with a tilted head.

He opens the door and holds out his hand to you, getting a good look at each other to make sure you don't seem too disheveled. You take a deep breath and leave the confessional booth open so the smell of sex isn't so obvious. He walks quietly behind you and you stand by the pulpit, looking around and considering how you'd thought about marriage before. Within walls like these, under all that Catholic guilt you'd never wanted marriage. It was ownership to you, a cage and a sentence of servitude. But now, finding yourself, your heritage and religion all crossing paths to point you to the man in front of you, you felt so entirely the opposite about it.

"Ya alright love?" he asks, taking both your hands. "You gettin' the spirit?" he chuckles, looking up at the stained glass windows.

"I feel... yes... yes I believe I feel Christ's love." you nod and look up and he let's out a laugh.

"Well 'at's a problem for a Jew there innit?" he snorts, shaking his head at you.

"We'll just have to see how I feel after fucking in another religious place won't we?" you say with a smile.

"Genevieve..." he scolds. "I can't rightly agree to goin' at it in such a way at Temple." he scoffs.

"Not even for our Yichud?" you ask with a sparkle of innocence in your eyes and his heart melts at the mention of it.

"Ah!" he says, taking your face into his hands. "There is my sweet little Chanah again at last." he grins and kisses you softly. "Of course we will for our Yichud, my love." he hums against your lips. "But I wouldn't refer to such a thing as fuckin'." he shakes his head and you feel a flutter in your stomach for the sentiment.

"Do you plan on making love to your darling wife Alfie?" you coo, your hands on his wrists that held your face.

"I do. You will be my most precious jewel, little Chanah." he lets the romantic sentiments fall out of his mouth and into yours as he kisses you softly. It was fitting how you both felt soft after such perverse things, it opened you both up, let you feel things and inevitably it lead to romantic notions. A breaking down of one wall to push on through to another. It reflected your dual natures and he found it comforting in an odd way; knowing he had both a devil and an angel.

"Then what of the wedding night?" you ask playfully.

"I'll be so tired I'm guessing you'll be on ya own on that one." he lets out a loud laugh that you can't help but join him in. You watching his face laugh, and at his own joke nonetheless, corners of his eyes crinkled, his laugh lines deep as you smile warmly at him. Even if it did turn out that way, you didn't even mind. What a hopeless romantic you'd turned out to be.


	67. More Than Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song for the chapter is More Than Words by Extreme.
> 
> Alfie shows Genevieve what good she's bringing forth in the community with her charity work when she feels overwhelmed with her Hebrew studies. He shows her the other side of being a gangster that he doesn’t flaunt. He shares about his upbringing and family with Passover on the horizon. He puts her through some of the final paces towards becoming his wife.

Alfie had been wondering about the next move to make in your relationship. Although it was easy to forget at times he wasn't actually married to you already. He mulled over the possibilities when he was alone. The when's, the where's, the how's and what he would do. He couldn't make up his mind if he wanted to use a ring or some other grand gesture of a gift. He wanted you to be his, he wasn't sure if he wanted to wait until after you became bat mitzvah, or if he should speak to a Rabbi about the whole thing. What a confusing process it was all turning out to be. He had plenty to consider and wanted to make the offering of his hand to be something he found worthy of you. Which was proving difficult.

You had been keeping your nose in books on Hebrew and Judaism, reading your new religious studies books, in your little glasses when he would come to your home late at night. He watched you learn the passages, the stack of books on your desk growing by the week. He'd come over for Shabbat and watched you light the candles, do the readings and break the Challah you'd baked yourself. He could see a change in you, and although you would behave as normal outside your home, your business dealings still having to be ruthless and cruel at times, you always left it outside your home. You were softer, kinder and watching you become something that was forbidden to you until now was a period of growth he was blessed to be able to witness.

Your growth and dedication had touched him. When he had read of your charitable doings over the span of your separation, he had taken the time to reflect on what he was currently giving. This led to a rise in his donations and allowing himself the time to be more personal with those that he knew needed his help. Friends, distant relatives, wives and children of good Jewish men he'd known, he gave more attention to. Anyone could sign a check for something, but your hands on nature with the children at the home and your teaching of art with the young women had shown him that the money wasn't enough. He should be better, he should remember where he came from. 

Your commitment and hunger for knowledge had led him to sit and read with you, or to you some evenings. With Passover fast approaching he knew you were nervous. Such an important event and it being something you felt responsible for now was making you too over critical of yourself. Would you be ready for Seder? Would you have the have the right food, wine, and preparation for it all? Did you know the prayers, the blessings, the questions, and songs? You were a bundle of nerves and Alfie sat by and gruffed at you to not worry about it so much. After studying more you felt more prepared, but as it always did, you had deeper more complex worries arise as to were you doing enough? Were you kind enough? Giving enough? An onslaught of heavy questions would pour down upon you and you would try to drown them with wine and Alfie would be there to remind you that you were in fact good enough. He would remind you of Esther and how violence has its places when it protects your people. And that was what you were doing now, facing a cold modern world with all the tools you had to carve out a safe place for yourself and others. He took you to a festival for Purim and the revelry and readings helped to set our mind at ease. But soon after the calm from the festivities passed, Seder anxieties reared their heads again and Alfie had found the perfect solution.

You sit in bed together, both in your night clothes, tucked under his arm as he read to you in Hebrew, little gold glasses adorning both your faces as you tried to concentrate on the pronunciations. He was waiting for you to voice your worry about Seder, as he knew it would come. In these moments of new found intimacy between the two of you, he was reminded of his father, reading and teaching him and his siblings when they were young. He's reading mindlessly, wondering if he too would be reading and teaching children of his own one day when your mouth opens to give him his opportunity to soothe you.

"I would share the lamb with the house, but you aren't supposed to share with servants. But they aren't really servants, are they? They're paid and I know them and care for them, pay for their educations and manage their needs. They're more like friends. But I don't want to be inappropriate. It'd all have to be eaten that night and I can't waste it and-"

"Chanah." he says with a sigh, taking off his glasses. He'd taken to calling you that behind closed doors. There was something about it that warmed him when it would leave his mouth. 

"Ari." you say back in the same tone. As your studies started to include him, he'd divulged to you his Hebrew name, Arioch. Which suitably meant like a lion. So naturally, you shortened it to Ari for times like these where you would appropriately be calling him a lion when he would be giving you an unhelpful tone. Although you thought the name Alfred Arioch Solomons sounded very regal and admittedly a bit sexy to you. The name suited him you thought, prideful and powerful, wild hair and a stare that would strike fear into any living thing if it wanted. He was your lion now and you wished his mum was around to tell her what foresight she'd had for her son.

"I got an answer to these worries of yours, eh?" he says with a rise of his brow, looking down to you. 

"If you tell me to just calm down one more time I'll scream." you say with a flat delivery and a low brow.

"No, this is much more proactive." he grins. "How's about you spend Seder with me 'n my family?" he offers with a delicate tone.

Your eyes go a bit wide at first, darting around the room at the suggestion. "With...your family?" you ask.

"'Course." he says in a warm inflection. "It would ease ya worryin' and you could also finally meet the lot of the nutters." he grins. "I suppose it is time you met them, yeah? Seein' as I met Altar 'n all." his eyes move back down to yours.

"That would solve a good portion of my issues." you nod. "I would only have to worry about my studying then...and of course the seeking approval from your family." you mutter. "I'm not used to trying to make people like me when it's not business." you add with a lowered brow and thoughtful tone. 

"No reason they won't like you." he says with a frown and a shake of his head. "At this point I could've brought anyone wif me and they'd be relieved." he adds in his course way.

"Thanks for the high praise." you huff out a laugh and smirk at him.

"You know 'at's not what I meant." he scolds and tops his glasses on the tip of your nose. "So do you accept?" he asks with a broad gesture of his hand, voice loud and demanding.

"Of course I do," you state obviously. "If we are to become more serious I believe it is a perfectly reasonable next step." you nod and settle back against his side. "And we are becoming more serious..." you say softly. "Aren't we?" you ask with a shy lilt.

"That's the daftest thing you've ever said." he grins and replaces his glasses and lets out a loud laugh. "We are deadly serious, my love." he kisses your head. 

"A woman has the right to ask." you say defensively, pinching at a roll on his stomach. 

"She does." he nods. "But do you think I've ever spent my evenings reading Hebrew to a woman before?" he asks looking over his glasses at you.

"That look tells me no."

"Intuitive as always, love." he says with a much kinder tone but the same smirk, putting his arm around your shoulder to hold you close. "If you need to hear of my dedication you only have to ask." he sighs out in a sweet way. "But be assured I do also speak with my actions, Chanah." he nods and pouts his lips, eyes looking over to find his place again. "I'll be sure to comfort your worries more actively if need be." he offers.

"Yes please." you say softly, snuggling up to him again. 

"Then after this shall we spend our night as if we're married already? A little bit 'a practice for bein' fruitful?" he teases, his hand running down your chest to cup your breast, his thumb swiping over your nipple.

You let out a giggle, moving your hand lower on his stomach and resting it just above his pajama bottoms. "It certainly couldn't hurt." you laugh into his beard, stretching your neck to kiss his jaw, drawing a deep contented hum that is reflected in his expression with cheeks rising to hide his eyes as he continues to distract you through the rest of the reading with his thumb that seemed to have remarkable aim and ability.   
\---------  
He stood outside your classroom door. His layers of vests and jackets, your favorite sort of wide-brimmed hat atop his head as he leaned against the wall, waiting. He'd come in with the intention of interrupting you early, to give the girls a break and have you come out with him for the afternoon. But he stood and watched you through the open door to your classroom, standing out of your line of sight and he couldn't bring himself to do it. You spoke with attentiveness, your hands on your student's hands and brushes to guide and direct, you pacing and reading from books and telling of advice from great artists and how it applied to the practice and life outside the walls of the school. He could see you cared, that this wasn't only a vanity project for you. So with that same notion, he heads to the front office and sets up a donation to add to your scholarship fund anonymously.

"'Ello, love." you hears his deep voice call out as you exit your classroom, causing you to jump and whip your head around at his unexpected appearance. 

"Alfie, darling, what are you doing here?" you say with a sincere question and fondness as you move the small space between you to meet with a kiss to the cheek.

"Came to see you with your girls," he says with a slow nod. "Never seen you teach before, so used to you bein' the student with me." he gives you a subtle smile. 

"And am I as good of a teacher as you?" you ask with a charming smile and a tilt of your head.

"You'll get there, love." he chuckles, holding out his bent arm for you to wrap yours around. "I asked Claire about your afternoon and she says it's free, and I's wonderin' if you'd accompany me on some errands today?" he suggests as you walk down the hallway together to the door. 

"You've never asked me to do such a thing before." you muse, your heels clicking slowly in pace with his shiny shoes across the tiled floor.

"I have not. But I am now innit I?" he says, nodding to people as they recognize him as they pass. "I've got some things I'd like you to see...some people I'd like ya to meet." he elaborates as he sees you through the doors. 

"Then of course. I had no formal plans for this afternoon, why not?" you shrug as you move to his car. 

"Wonderful, love, fanks." he says with a kiss to your head before you duck inside the car. "To the East End, Isaiah." he gives a nod to his driver. "I've been meanin' to do this for a little while now." he begins, holding his hand out to take yours. "You talkin' 'bout bein' more serious and 'n that I knew it was time for me to let you see all it is that I do." he nods and looks down to find your face attentive and intrigued. "You know me best for my violence, yeah? But 'at's not all I got goin' on, mate, no, I got a bit 'a good in the work I do too." he explains, nodding and eyes twitching at the corners as he looks out the windows. "I've been thinkin'... that if we are to be married that you need to be seein' me at all sides, love. Most people'll only talk about the so-called ill I perform but I want you to see how I try to help as much as I do hurt when it comes to my... our people." he brings his eyes back to you and adores the self-reflective nature of them. His face is in its usual creased thoughtfulness, his eyes half hidden under the shifting brow as he explains himself. "I did some soul searchin' when we's apart, right? Seein' you goin' out and bein' a public figure for charity 'n art 'n that I took it upon myself to do better by your example. After I knew we'd been seein' each other again... and in my hopefulness for a future together I arranged to set in motion some plans to be able to show ya that I would be worthy of bein' a good sort of husband for a good Jewish woman such as yourself." his words are calm and calculated and you were touched as you watched him reveal his inner workings to you. "I saw I needed to get back in touch with my roots, my people ya know." he nods. "I'd been too heavy in me business doin's and had been neglectin' the things that got me to where I am today. I wanted to show I wasn't above anyone else, as I'm not, and upon further reflection, as I wanted to be betta for you, I wanted to be betta for that little boy I once was." he moves to take your hand between both of his and you follow suit. "You learnin' and becomin' what you always shoulda been opened me up in a way I hadn't been willin' to do since I was a lad. And thinkin' about me past, the schoolin' and family I thought 'bout what I might want for myself one day... or if I wanted it 'at all. And I do. Now I do. But I see that to be what a child needs in a father, I myself, needed to be better than I's bein'. Hold myself to a higher standard than I used to, yeah?" his nose wrinkles as his eyes continue to move about, but your stay fixated on his face. "If I were to be with a Jewish woman, which wasn't sumfin' I was plannin' on doin' until I's wif you, right? Then our children would need a good Jewish father. Someone who knew what the fuck he was on about and as much of a fuckin' hypocrite as I am and 'spose I always will be, I knew I at least needed to try." he returns his eyes to you. "So... as fuckin' long-winded as I've gone and made myself here I wanted to share 'a bit of meself with you so you'd know what sorta man I came from... what sorta man I might be inclined to be if we were to have little ones, right?"

"I've wanted to know for some time, admittedly, but I wasn't going to push you to tell me."

"Well it's ya lucky day innit, love?" he gives you a charming smile, thumb rubbing across your hands. "We'll start with me father then. Bernard. Me mum did call 'im Bernie in private but he fuckin' hated it." he lets out a chuckle. "Bernard Dov, although he tried to get the name Berel to stick with mum, she tried to sound more English and preferred somethin' that sounded sweet and small as she said. But he was neither sweet nor small."

"Perhaps it was meant to be ironic? A cheeky little joke or something?"

"Mum was funny that way." he smiles warmly. "Father passed shortly after I became a man and I 'spose that was a big thing that fueled my studies, as he never let us forget the importance of knowledge and it's pursuit. He was a stern man. But fair, always fair." he nods. "He held me 'n my siblings to a high standard. Especially the boys. So I did well in me studies, both at home in school. I always had a knack for learnin' it seemed. Was told I was clever, if not a bit up me own arse about it at times." he laughs. "I got high marks and I was proud. Same as always heavy handed in my own way about fings. I'd try to set the other boys straight ya see. Tellin' 'em...what sort 'a man ya gonna be if ya don't try to be just that now? Ya can't live like ya do and be of any worth to anyone later. Ya stuntin' ya own potential." he grins, his eyes far away in the past. "I couldn't understand how they weren't more concerned about bein' good men. Men of faith and fortune built from workin' hard and usin' their minds to earn their gold. That was all me father talkin' that was." he sighs. "And me mum." his face softens. "Peninah." he smiles. "You'd think me father would've been inclined to give her a nickname, Pearl or Penny or such...but he wasn't much for informalness." he grins. "She was strong but always sweet with her children. Father was the law and she was the peacekeeper. She expected more out of us just like he did, she never coddled, but whereas father was cold in his approach, she was warm. She passed after goin' back to Russia, you see. When the fuckers were pushin' us all out she went back for her sisters. They all made it back... but she didn't live long after that. Told me stories of bein' chased by the Russians through the snow. Havin' to hide in that sort 'a climate and she got sick from it." he voice trails off slightly.

"I see where you get your bravery from." you give his hands a supportive squeeze, bring his glazed over eyes back to the present, the anger still simmering under the surface. 

"She was very brave, yeah." he nods and sighs. "Always spoke of the importance of family. And speakin' of, you'll be meetin' me sisters soon won't ya?" he pats your hand. "Rachel, Matilda and Sarah. The bellends." he laughs. "Nah, they're good women. Been ridin' my arse since my bar mitzvah to get me a wife. But they are women and two older than me, so I suppose it was all to be expected, eh?" his laughs weakens to a chuckle. "You'll be meetin' me brother Jeremiah's wife, Pippa. He died in the war, though. But I believe I told you that."

"You did." you nod and give him a weak smile. He didn't seem distraught about it, but it made you sad.

"And my heard of nieces and nephews. Got what's left of me mum's brothers and sisters and me dad's brothers. Whole family a men they are."

"All of them?" you say with a huff of laughter.

"Yeah, there were so many of 'em, his mum, who died before I was before kept havin' children in hopes of havin' a girl. But it never came to pass." he shakes his head. "Seven boys instead." he chuckles.

"Poor woman." you share the same amused laugh with him. 

"That so?" he tilts his head and looks back to you. "Do you want a little girl, love?" he asks and your stomach flutters at the ease that you both speak about marriage and children with now. 

"Of course I would. I'm certainly not opposed to a boy by any means. It would just be nice to have the experience of raising both I think." you shrug. "Plus I am a girl and a feminine one at that so having a little doll of my own does sound appealing," you admit and lay your head on his shoulder. "What about you?"

"Either would be nice, yeah? Long as the poor things get their looks from you." he grins.

"I wouldn't be making babies with an ugly man, darling." you laugh and reach up to give him chin a scratch and kiss to his cheek. 

\-------  
You pull up to a block of housing. It reminds you of small heath in it's sad and drab exterior. Dark, dirty and desolate looking as Alfie takes your hands and leads you through the archway. You see numerous children playing, running around through lines of drying clothes, mothers in aprons shouting after them. You don't expect them to all greet Alfie with such fondness, but they do. They know him by name, a polite, Mr. Solomons at his arrival as he hands them sweets from his pockets and ruffles their hair. They look at you suspiciously, not having seen you before, and you don't blame them. He leads you up the tarnished metal stairs to an inconspicuous door. 

He knocks and very quickly a woman opens the door. "Oh, shalom, Mr. Solomons." the worn looking woman smiles warmly and greets him with a smile. 

"I've told you many times, Mable to call me Alfie. Now is Alice about?" he says loudly, a gentle command.

"She's in her room, let me go fetch her." she rushes out before shuffling off. 

"Who is Alice?" you whisper.

"Someone I wanted you to meet," he says with a nod. "Ah! Hello love!" he says warmly, reaching out to take the young girls hand that is outstretched, her other is holding onto a harness that rests around a dog. It becomes apparent to you quickly she is one of the beneficiaries of the charity you were on the board with with Alfie. 

"Hello, Mr. Solomons." her voice is sweet and delicate. 

"You ladies and your politeness. I told ya mum to call me Alfie as well. But ya just won't listen." he says warmly, patting the back of her hand. "How is little diamond doing now? Bein' a good girl?"

"She's been such a relief." she says with downcast, milky eyes. "And she also keeps me very warm at night." she smiles.

"I had someone I wanted you to meet little one," he says, holding his hand out to you to beckon you closer. "This is Genevieve Durand. She's the one what helped you get Diamond there." he says, placing your hand in hers.

"Pleasure to meet you Alice." you say looking over the kind and pretty girls face. 

"You work at the charity with Mister- with Alfie?"

"I do." you nod and her mother comes and places her hand on your arm. 

"We'd like to thank you for your help Miss Durand. Alice here has been waiting for assistance for some time now. Alfie had told me there had been an influx in donations recently and because of that they were able to giver her Diamond, as they were primarily givin' dogs to the boys after the war who needed them." she explains and you try to keep your face warm and not shocked or sad as you felt. You hadn't known about this girl, or how long the wait on the list was and you were deeply touched by the thoughtfulness of Alfie to bring you to see your work for yourself. 

"I'm just happy Alice here could get some assistance." you say sincerely. 

"Diamond has been such a lifesaver for me. She suffers from seizures you see, and Diamond here can let someone know if she needs help by barking if she's alone. The neighbors help me out when I can't be here for work, keeping an eye out for her, but now everyone's much more at ease." she says reaching out to pat the dogs head. 

"Mable here has been able to find work for the first time since Jack passed, isn't that right?" Alfie offers with a strong nod. 

"Yes it's been such a help to get some money coming back in, believe me." she nods enthusiastically.

"Jack was a member of my company you see, in the war. He used to tell me about Mable and Alice. So when I saw the name on the list, I happened to reach out to them and I've been workin' for a long time to get them Diamond here." he explains. 

"Alfie's been a lifesaver, truly. Couldn't have made it without him." she says patting his cheek. Such a soft gesture from a man who was known to be a criminal made your heart warm. 

"Least I could do. Jack was a good man." he says more sternly. "Speakin' of, I've got something to show you. Would you love?" he asks, motioning his hand out to the other room. 

They leave you and Alice and you pat Diamonds head. "I've heard your name in the paper." Alice breaks the silence. 

"Oh have you? Nothing bad I hope." you softly laugh.

"You paint, right?"

"I do. Are you a fan of the arts? Music and the like?" you clarify, not wanting to sound daft.

"I do adore music. My mum took me to the theater once. I loved it." she smiles.

"Have you ever been to the opera Alice?" you ask, moving your head to look at Alfie in the other room with her mother. He hands her an envelope, and she refuses at first, but with his insistence she takes it. You're seeing he'd been helping support them while she had had to stay home with Alice. 

"Oh, no. I wish." she chuckles. "Far too posh for me." she shakes her head and Alfie walks back into the room with her mother. 

"Would you like to go? Or do you have a distaste for the style?"

"It'd be wonderful to go. It's just always been so expensive." she says sheepishly.

"Would you like to go with me?" you ask, watching her face go through a slew of emotions.

"Really?" she asks quietly.

"Of course! You can feel the music when you're by the pit. Your mum could come to. Alfie doesn't like the opera...I'd love to have some girls to go with." you say cheerfully.

Her mum walks up with a bowed head. "It sounds lovely and thank you Genevieve, but I'm afraid we'd be a bit underdressed." she gives you a sad smile.

You see the sinking in Alice's face and you won't stand for it. "Don't' be silly, I can get you something." you wave your hand dismissively. "How's about you two come to my house sometime soon and we can find you some gowns of mine? We're all three not too far off in size, certainly nothing a few alterations can't handle." you insist.

"Genevieve does have far too many dresses. Do me a service and take some off her hands would you?" Alfie laughs. 

"Would you like to go Alice?" her mother asks her.

"Yes." she nods enthusiastically.

"Then it's settled," you say clasping your hands together. "I'll get back up with you through Alfie's people and we'll set something up soon."

"Thank you Miss Durand." Alice says with a shaky voice.

"Call me Genevieve... or Gen, whichever you'd prefer, really. If we're going to go out and have some fun, we can't be so formal can we?" reach out and hold her hand. "We'll have a lovely time, Alice." you say sincerely.

"Thank you, Miss-" you give a playful frown to her mum. 

"Genevieve. I'm sure Alice is just a bit tongue-tied from surprise." she laughs and moves to hug her from the side. "First time she'll be going to such a grand thing."

"It won't be the last." you smile. "All girls deserve a good night out from time to time don't we?" 

"Ya do, love, ya do." Alfie says, his hand sliding across your upper back. "I'm sorry to cut it short but we've got another appointment to keep so if you don't mind... Mable, Miss Alice. We'll be seein' ya." he gives a nod and you see yourselves out. 

"Why didn't you tell me about her before we went in?" you ask him as you follow him down the stairs back to the car.

"I wanted to see your raw reaction." he states simply and honestly. Today was a bit of test of sorts, and he knew you'd pass, but your warm acceptance of the girl and her mother had made him all the more certain of you being fit to be his wife. He needed a woman who could charm people in such a way.

"I didn't know about the waiting list." you say a frown.

"Well, it's for the senior members. They deal with that sort of thing." he explains gruffly.

"Are there others like them Alfie?" you ask him once you get into the car. 

"What you mean?"

"Other you take care of? I saw you give her money."

"There are a few yeah." he says looking out the window.

"Families of men you oversaw?" you inquire.

"Not all no. Most not." he shakes his head. "Just Jewish families that haven't been as lucky as me." he says with a sense of sadness to his tone. "Sick little ones... widows... families of men that worked for me that sacrificed for me in some form or 'nother I like to keep an eye on. Don't give 'em all money, y'know. Some just need a wee bit of food or medicine from time to time." he looks back over to you and you sigh heavily and take his hand into yours. 

"All this time you spoke of my capacity for kindness and violence. What of you darling?"

"What of it?" he shrugs. "I'm only doin' what I should. You take care of your people, they take care 'a you. Like you and your girls at home. You 'n your kids at the home and the schoolgirls. Same sort of thing, love." he says cooly, looking down at your adoring eyes. 

"You have a personal touch I do not. A connection to the community I've been cut off from that I envy."

"And now you know two women you didn't yesterday dunnit ya? See.. you'll get connected. Ya just used to connectin' with folk what don't require help."

"That is true." you nod. "I guess I do have connections. Just not in the same class as you do." you say thoughtfully. You see a chance here for the both of you. You can handle the upper classes, he can handle the lower. With connections made on every level of the community, when you two did marry, you would have a reach that most people couldn't dream of. Feet on the ground to do work for you, people in ivory towers to persuade to make decisions in your favor. You could have a foot in both worlds. 

"Exactly love." he agrees with a slow blink. "But the point I wanted to make with little Alice, was to show you where your charity was goin'. I wanted you to see it in action." he clarifies.

"Thank you," you say, leaning your head onto his arm. "It's something I needed." you add softly. You could get so caught up in the high stakes world you both lived in that you could forget what good was possible out of the bad that you did. Charity was important to your faith and being able to see it work, beyond writing something down and having Claire donate it showed you the people behind what you were working on building with Alfie.

"You always say you aren't doin' enough. I figure it's 'cause you don't see it up close and personal. Thought it might help ya."

"It did, thank you, really, darling, it was very thoughtful of you."

"So was invitin' them out." he says with a smile, arms around your shoulders and kissing your head.

"Least I could do. All girls deserve a bit of fun now and again. Especially a woman that works so hard like Mable and a sweet young thing like Alice. It's nothing for me to show such kindness to them." 

"I can only be thankful for such a woman to come into my life as you, Chanah." he says close to your ear, the gentle tone catching you off guard.

"What brings on this sweet tongue of yours?" you ask, giving his beard an affectionate tug. 

"You love, it's always you that makes me this way innit?" he smiles and leans in to give you a chaste kiss. "You are such a compliment to my weaknesses I couldn't imagine goin' 'bout my life of dual nature without you now." he gently holds your chin up to him. "Only your soft heart could be the one to withstand wearing away at my hardened one." he says softly. "I didn't ever think I'd be able to regain the will to want or expect better from myself when it comes to things outside of business. Not until you came along."

"It is not good for man to be alone." you say sweetly, reciting from Genisis.

He sighs and kisses you again. "One who has found a wife has found goodness and has brought forth favor from God." he whispers.

"Solomon from Solomons." you giggle against his lips and a slow, deep chuck bubbles out of him. "And with all this talk you fluster me, Ari." you say more playfully. "It seems you forget we are not in fact married yet. When is it you intend to reunite our souls?" you gently bump your nose against his.

"I want the occasion to as perfect as you are, pet. And I humbly ask of you to give me time to orchestrate the impossible." he grins and kisses you again.

"If anyone could do the impossible, I believe it would be you." you coo at him.

"And that faith in me is why I can even entertain the thought of it at all."


	68. What Kind Of Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song for the chapter is What Kind Of Man by Florence + The Machine.  
> NSFW  
> Alfie breaks a promise to Genevieve, causing their worst fight yet. When she threatens real repercussions against him, he finds himself being the one doing the begging for the first time. Her need for control turns into a good old fashioned hate fuck. They find themselves a new way to solve their arguments and a new understanding of boundaries in their relationship.

Alfie had made some questionable decisions in his day. He was aware of this. But now those decisions involved you. Some you knew about, others you didn't, and on this day one that you did not know about, and for good reason, was going to cause a fight that would bring him to his knees. 

He sat in his office, eyes miles away, fingers picking through his beard as his mind raced.

"You ain't 'eard from 'em?" he asks Ollie for the third time this hour.

"No, sir, they're set to call your office phone anyway."

"It's been too long." he grumbles, eyes moving to the silent phone on his desk. "She shoulda been outta that meetin' and on her way home by now." he slumps and rests his forearms on his desk. 

"Maybe there was more to discuss than Abeille? Or another meeting after she'd added on?" Ollie offers, trying to be helpful.

"You suggestin' I 'ont know how to keep tabs on me own woman?" he glares over to the tall younger man, who now had eyes wide with fear and apologies. 

"I wasn't-" he begins his head shaking back and forth when the phone rings. 

Alfie doesn't take his eyes off Ollie, a low brow still berating him wordlessly. "'Ello?" he answers.

"Boss... uh... you should be goin' to the missus house as soon as ya can." the stuttered and rushed words of one of the men he'd sent to tail you around town for protection make him stomach tighten.

"Why?" he demands in a flat and authoritative tone.

"She knows about us." he says, catching his breath.

"And how the fuck would she know? What'd you do? What took you so long to fuckin' call?" he commands.

"It went south quickly. Roddy was shot and I had to take him to the hospital." he hesitantly answers.

"Fuckin' shot? What about her?" his eyes go wide with worry, his free hand placed on the top of his desk, body already wanting to dart for the door. 

"She's fine. We got in in time to help her out. They had her outnumbered but... she fuckin' gave it to 'em that's for sure."

"What the fuck happened?" he asks forcefully. 

"From what I gathered, with her screamin' at us 'n all. The people she's meetin' with saw us tailin' her. We didn't pull up 'til after she was in like you said. But they thought she was tryin' to ambush 'em and they went off on 'er. We heard gunshots and ran in. Then she held us by gunpoint and made us tell her who we were." he says in a fast and panicked way. 

"You fuckin' useless wankers." he groans, rubbing between his eyes. "I told you not to fuckin' tell her who you were!" he shouts into the phone. 

"She was gonna shoot us sir! She even cut me up a bit to get me to talk!" he says in a high pitched desperate voice. 

"I 'ont care." he spits out. "That's what ya fuckin' hazard pay is for ya fuckin' lot 'a bellends." his voices rises and falls, knowing he was going to be met with the same fate now. "You two are back on fuckin' cleanin' duty when you get back 'ere. You understand?" 

"Yes sir." he says with a sigh.

"Right. Now I gotta go deal with what you fucked up." he sits the phone done on the receiver like it weighed a ton. He shuts his eyes, takes a deep breath and rises to get his coat.

"That didn't go according to plan I take it?" Ollie asks.

"Ya got anymore daft fuckin' useless questions?!" he shouts in his face, shoving him out of the way to walk through the doorway. 

Ollie shuts up and lets Alfie have his space before going back to work.

On the long drive to your place, he's left trying to figure out how to navigate this unfortunate turn of events. You would be furious. He knew that. He also knew he couldn't make you understand the reason he had men follow you in the first place. You were too precious a thing to him to lose. He wasn't going to let you get snatched up in broad daylight or attacked while you shopped at the market if he could help it. The tails had only been a way to keep you protected but he knew you wouldn't see it that way. He couldn't live without you and if he didn't do everything he could to keep you safe he'd never forgive himself. 

"He's here." you hear Claire say with a heavy sigh as you're standing in the garden, fuming, thinking of all the things you wanted to scream at Alfie while you ripped him apart. You say nothing and walk briskly past her. "He's in your bedroom!" she calls out, shoulders hung low as she knows whatever is about to happy won't be pretty. 

With no hesitation you move your overworked muscles towards your room, throwing your door open and slamming it shut behind you, your dressing gown shifting with your fast and certain movements. He sees your face and prepares for the onslaught coming his way. 

"Genevieve I can explain." he begins, hands up in surrender as you stomp towards him like an angry bull. When you reach out and slap him open handed across his face it catches him off guard. His head stays turned, eyes wide as he processes the hit. He tried to keep his face indifferent but the pain made him want to fire back at you

"I almost DIED because of you!" you scream at him, brow low and hard, face set in a tight, furious expression as your eyes bore into him. 

He turns his head, eyes shifting to you first to take you in, seeing scrapes and bruises he didn't expect. He had been told you were fine, and this was not the untouched story he'd been sold. "You should know that would never be my intention, pet." he tries to soothe you with pet names even though he knows it won't work. 

"But it was your intention to lie, yes? To have me tracked like a fucking animal without telling me?" you shove him and his legs hit against the end of your bed. 

"I wanted to keep ya safe, love, I-" he talks with his hands, punctuating his points.

"That's a load of shit and you know it!" you growl, leaning in closer.

"No it's not, yeah?" his voice finally rises,and your postures straightens, ready to hear what he had to say in terms of defending his stupidity. "I had them follow you to keep an eye on you." 

"Because you don't trust me?" you cross your arms as your voice evens out, head tilted at him. 

"Course not! I didn't want someone tryin' to snatch ya up or fuckin' trappin' ya in some fake meetin' because 'a ME." he sells the last word heavily. 

"But you can lie to me? Funny how that reasoning works with you." you spit out. 

"I didn't lie I just didn't tell you." he groans. 

You shove him again. "You fucking horse's arse!" you shout. "So full of shit!" you ball up your fists. "Can't even take responsibility for your actions!" you look down your nose at him with digust.

"I am not ya fuckin hell cat!" he shouts back. "Come down off ya fuckin' pedestal and join the rest of us in the fuckin' real world Genny! I did it to keep you safe because there are men out to KILL YOU, RIGHT?! Because of ME! If somethin' happened to you that I coulda stopped, do you think I could live with that?!" he put his hands to his chest in defense of himself, his anger cracking to show the concern that birthed his lies. 

"And I almost died TODAY because of YOU. They saw the men trailing me pull up, they asked me who they were and I didn't know BECAUSE OF YOU! They thought I was lying and I had a gun pulled to my fucking HEAD because I was left in the dark. YET AGAIN!" you scream and get in his face and he holds his ground against you.

"I ain't gonna apologize for tryna keep ya safe!" he barks. 

"We've had this argument before Alfie. Don't you remember? The one where I threatened to fucking KILL you if you did it again?!" you ask with an eerie calm to your words, his chin dropping in control of his emotions. 

"Of course I fuckin' remember! I-" begins with an already exhausted look on his face. 

"THEN WHY DID YOU DO IT AGAIN YOU DAFT FUCKING MAN?!" you screech, shoving him. "Why must you continuously prove to me that you can't fucking listen? That you don't actually respect my abilities or my space. Because if you fucking respected me you would LEARN from your mistakes. You PROMISED me that night that you wouldn't pull this shit again and what did I tell you?" your voice is loud and has grown a crowd outside your closed door. Aggie is in tears and Claire's muscles have never been so tense. 

He opens his mouth to speak and you cut him off.

"I told you not to make me regret my mercy." you snap. "And what have you done, huh?" your voice rises again.

"I'm sorry Genevieve... I-" he leans forward and thinks to reach out to touch you.

"OH NOW THERE'S AN APOLOGY!" you laugh wildly, turning from him with your arms in the air in disbelief of his actions. "I can't believe I fucking trusted you." you shake your head slowly before turning back to him. "Everyone was right about you weren't they? Don't believe a word he fucking says, they told me. And I thought you loved me and I was fucking stupid enough to fall for you and your lies."

"I do love you, Genevieve," he says with downcasted eyes and slumped shoulders. "I do love you, that's why I did it!" he states with an open mouth like it's the most obvious thing in the world. 

"If you loved me you would've TOLD ME!" your resolve begins to break and your lip trembles before you can turn from him. 

"I did it because I can't lose you, do ya not see that?!" his voice rises, giving away his desperation.

"If you were truly worried about losing me you wouldn't have had me tailed without my knowledge. Even putting today's events aside in which YOUR actions almost got me KILLED, your actions are grounds for me to leave you." your voice cracks.

"Genevieve you don't mean-" he shakes his head slowly.

"DO I NOT?!" you scream into his face. He reaches out to touch you and you smack his arms away. "Don't you dare fucking touch me." you growl and his face winces, jaw going tight. "If I killed you it would be too obvious. So the next step down is to leave you isn't it?" you bite out. You don't believe what you're saying, not really, but you want to hurt him as much as he's hurt you. 

"Don't talk like that love." he says softly, shaking his head. "I only risked doin' that because if somefing happened to you that I could've prevented I couldn't live with meself." he says, chin down and eyes lifted up to yours, voice cracking as you watch the lump in his throat grow. "I can't lose you. I didn't want you hurt. Today was an absolute fuck up on my behalf, yeah? I never meant to make you think I didn't respect you. I was tryin' to take extra precautions to keep ya safe. It did not work. I'm sorry! You have to see that I love you, Genevieve, and that's why I did it." he leans his face towards you to sell his words to you. 

"And your love includes going directly against anything I've ever asked of you?" your voice is raspy, fighting back emotion, hearing the surprising softness of his own in his pain. "Why would I stay with a man who would keep me in the dark? You say you had me trailed to keep me safe but do you not see how it also leaves me to believe you don't trust me?" 

"I do trust you, love. I do. That were never a part of it, yeah? It was only for extra protection."

"Then you should have asked me!" your voice high pitched. 

"And your stubborn arse would've said no!" he says loudly, his face slack and eyes wide, palms up in exhaustion. "Then I would've bloody gone 'n done it anyway wunnit I?" he shakes his head. "Because as long as you're mine, I will do anyfing and everyfing in my power to keep you safe!"

"So you're telling me that you would ignore my wishes?" you say, your disgust clear on your face. 

"I thought it better to ask forgiveness than permission." he admits. 

"My capacity for it has its limits. You fooled me once Alfie... you don't fucking get to do it twice." you scold, leaning in towards him. 

"I'M SORRY, RIGHT?!" he shouts back, arms out at his sides. "I 'ont know how else to fucking tell you I did it because I fuckin' love you and I can't fuckin' live without you so I YEAH I would go against your wishes because you aren't always right, Genevieve." he barks back. 

Your mouth falls open and you glare at him. "Get out." you whisper.

"No." he says defiantly.

"Get the fuck out of my house." you hiss, fists balled and eyes trying to hide your frustration with the situation. You wanted to hurt him, you wanted him to cry and hurt. Not be this controlled man you saw in front of you. You wanted to rip him to pieces. You wanted him to learn his lesson.

"Genevieve no... please..." he says with a heaving chest, moving towards you even though you smack his hands away as they touch you. 

"Get out." you begin to cry. He reaches for you, holding you tight by the arms and you whimper. "Stop it Alfie." you continue to try to push him away but in your emotional state you can't fight him off. "You don't love me. You're mad. What sort of man acts like this when he's in love?" you choke out with a face showing your hurt. "You don't love me." you bite out at him.

"I do. I'm as mad as a fuckin' hatter for you, Genny, that's why I do things like this." he says softly, trying to bring the energy down. "I can't even think straight when it comes to you, love, I think of you as mine already, you know 'is." he nods his head to drive his point home. "I know you're hurt and I'm sorry. But I would be a shell of who I am now if I lost you." he says leaning in close to your face, you see in his eyes he means it. "I'll do anyfing, Genevieve, what do you want? What do you need from me because I 'on't fuckin' know." he asks quietly, seeing your face soften but your brow stays hard in defiance. 

You swallow hard, taking a deep breath. You didn't want him to be without you as much he didn't want it. You wanted him to pay though. He deserved some sort of punishment for what he'd done. You say nothing and look away from him.

"Please, Gen, I'm sorry. Let me prove it to you, yeah? I'll work to earn your forgiveness." he takes your face into his hands and when you let him he feels a weight off his shoulders. "Let me show you I only react in such a way out of love." he says softly, a kiss to your forehead that your body reacts to. "Let this make us stronger, eh? We were due for a good fight weren't we? Two people like us can't go without blowin' up from time to time can we? You're too passionate to be contained, love 'n I know you're angry but can I do anything now, in this moment, to ease it? Just don't you dare talk about leavin' me." he finishes gently, thumbs rubbing across your cheeks. 

You both fall quiet, an air of desperation hangs around you. "You did it because you're afraid of losing me?" you ask of him. 

"Terrified." he whispers. "Only thing I'm afraid of." he shakes his head. 

You take in a deep inhale. "What would you do if you lost me?" you ask.

"Burn down the whole fuckin' city to get to whoever did it. I'd be the most miserable fuckin' man anyone ever had the unfortunate chance to meet. I'd be left to get swallowed up in my hate cause I'd lost my love, wouldn't I?" you stare into his eyes and you find nothing but honesty there now. 

"Do you need me Alfie?" your voice is breathy as you shut your eyes. 

"Like air." he whispers.

"And you love me?" he watches over your soft face, your chest rising and falling slower now as you speak.

"Infinitely." he answers.

"And you're mine?" your brow furrows as you ask.

"I am." You feel the warm feeling wash over you. 

"Tell me you're mine. No one else's." you shake your head subtly.

He gives to your wishes without hesitation. "I am yours, my love. There is no one else in my eyes but you." 

You open your eyes again and he finds them dark and dilated. You feel a power come over you, hearing a strong man like him give in. You knew what you needed from him now. "Get on your knees." you say in a clear, flat voice.

He narrows his eyes in question, side-eyeing you for a moment. 

"I'm going to have you earn your forgiveness," you state slowly. "Get on your knees." you say with more a command to your tone.

He lets your face go, eyes staying locked on yours as he kneels slowly, uncertainty clear in them. 

You run your hand through his hair, looking over his handsome face. "Take your coat off." you tell him gently. He follows what you ask. You rake your nails from his scalp to his neck, hands rubbing his shoulders and resting on them. "Apologize." 

"I'm sorry." he says quickly. 

You move back to his hair, feeling the thick softness and humming. "Do you think I'm weak Alfie?" your voice inflects upward.

"No of course not." he says earnestly.

"But yet you behave as if I am. That would make YOU the weak one wouldn't it? Only weak men try to control their women." you pout. "My Alfie isn't weak." you state harshly. 

"It is not weak to admit what I need, love." he says with a deep voice, a subtle shake of his head. 

You give him a subtle smile, a gentle pat to the cheek. "I'm going to teach you a lesson, Alfie. I don't think you're going to be happy about it." you purse your lips down at him. "But then again... you might." you shrug. 

He takes a deep breath, starting to understand what you were doing. He wasn't sure about it but he was willing to keep his word that he'd do anything. "Do what you want. If it's to keep you I'll take it with a fuckin' smile if ya wish." he gives a confident nod of his chin up towards you. 

"That's a good boy." you pat his cheek and run your thumb over his lips. "Not going to get you out of being punished though." you give a sly smile and turn from him to walk to a trunk that sat against a wall next to your armoire. You open the lid and stand and pick your nails as you hum in thought. "What to do... what to do..." you say in a melodic tone. 

He watches you with curious eyes, trying to keep his face indifferent. 

"Seeing as it's your first time..." you speak to yourself, reaching down to take a soft, woven rope from the trunk and a ribbon of satin. "Hurting you physically isn't what this is about." you say, walking over to him with a swing to your hips, a look of superiority on your face. "Isn't even about sex. Not really." you say with a nod, running your fingers through his hair and turning them into a fist, giving it a firm tug. "Everything in the world is about sex, except sex itself. Sex is about power." you tell him with a cold appearance, pulling his head back. "And you are a powerful man. But you're going to yield to me." you state flatly, leaning down closer to his face, hand yanking on his hair. 

"I told ya, I'm yours." he answers. You could never deny that he wasn't a smart man. He could've been the smartest you knew and never short on cleverness. 

"You are mine. Now get on this bed." you give a sharp nod, tugging him up by his shirt collar and sitting him down. "You're going to do as I say. You're going to listen." you bite your words at him, smacking his nose like a scolded pup. "You're going to prove to me you can. You're going to give me your power and I'm going to use you and punish you however I please. Do we understand?" you stand up straight as you speak and unbutton his shirt. 

"Yes, love." he sighs out.

"No." you give a stern smack to his cheek. "No love, no darling, no pet names. You call me Miss until I tell you otherwise. You haven't earned calling me yours again. I'm not yours again yet." you speak low and concise at him, his eyes blinking rapidly to try to subdue his instincts to talk back. When he goes without speaking for too long you twist on of his nipples and he flinches. "Answer me." you loudly demand.

"Yes Miss." he grunts out, wanting to rub the spot of sudden impact but you're roughly yanking his sleeves off his arms. 

"Kick off your shoes." you order, taking his shirt and picking up his jacket, laying it over the back of a chair. "Much better." you exhale out, nails raking down his bare arms. You untie the sash around your waist, letting your dressing gown fall open just slightly. You see his nostrils twitch, his eyes move down your body and you grab him firmly by the chin. "You don't get to watch me do these things to you. This body is mine, not the other way around. You don't get to gaze at this feminine form while you're being punished." you shake his chin and put the satin ribbon across his eyes. "Have you ever been blindfolded Alfie?"

"No Miss." he answers with clear disapproval to his voice. 

"That's surprising," you say out loud in reflection. "Has a woman ever tied you up before?" you ask with a sweeter tone.

"No. Never wanted to be put in a vulnerable position." he forces out in a stubborn mumble.

You let out a dark chuckle at his expense. "I supposed you should've behaved and kept it that way then, hmmm? Because you're going to be vulnerable for me." you coo, bending over the bed and encircling his elbows and wrists pulled together with the soft rope. You preferred the harder, rougher rope yourself but you didn't want to leave visible marks on him after the fact. "Have you ever heard of Kinbaku?" you ask while forming the intricate patterns across his forearms. 

"No." he says softly.

You bend his pinky back as he's already forgetting the rules. 

"Fuckin', MISS, No. Miss." he rushes out.

"He's learning." you say in a patronizing tone. "It's the art of tight binding with rope. It's about the beauty in the art of restraint. I learned from a very knowledgeable woman during my time in Berlin." you explain, knotting his arms together, forcing his chest out and his back straight as he grunted. "This isn't some sailors knot you boys brought home. You won't be getting out this." he hears the threat in your voice. "Go ahead." you say with a humourous lilt and you stand in front of him, hands on your hips, opening your dressing gown to expose your naked body underneath. "Try." you challenge him.

He grunts, jaw tight and shoulders shifting almost falling onto his side in his attempt.

"See? Not going anywhere," you say condescend, bopping his nose. "And what good news for me." you let out a slow, deep laugh, spreading his knees and standing between them, letting your hands roam over his shoulders and down his arms slowly. "Truly a shame you have to have such an appetizing body when you have such a habit of poor behavior." you sigh and pout, fingers dragging down his stomach to the tops of his trousers. "All I want to do is love and fuck you Alfie I don't know why you can't just behave and let me do that without having to do things like this." your voice is whiny and lazy, reaching and twisting his nipples as he flinches and grunts. "Making me deny both of us. Making me take time out of my busy schedule to fucking train you like some dog." you knock his chin with the back of your hand. "And such a stubborn mutt." you scold, a smack to both his cheeks. You change your tone and touch to sweeter, lighter to begin overwhelming him. "But he is so handsome. Except for all that sneaking he's a good pup isn't he?" you run your fingers through his beard.

"I fuckin' try, Miss." he answers gruffly, his frustration evident. 

"Try harder." you command, slapping his chest firmly, making him press his lips together. "If you want to keep me you'll try harder." You put your lips to his and speak. "I will not tolerate this machismo shit that you're trying to pull on me. I won't. I don't care if I fucking love you, I'll live without you out of spite. I've built my whole life around spite and don't think you're immune just because I love your stubborn arse." He feels the more heartfelt expression in your voice as you speak closely and harshly to him. 

"So you would still love me?" he says softly, you back away, his lips parted just slightly as he waits for an answer. 

"I will love you until the day I die, Alfie. But don't think that means you can do what you want and get away with it. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Miss." he whispers.

"You will ask me before doing these things. Even if it means a fight. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Miss."

"Because I would rather you tell me and then do it, over not telling me. It's the transparency I need, Alfie. I won't have secrets that could hurt us kept between us." you lift up his chin to your face. "It's a matter of my safety and yours now. This isn't some young love where the only effects of our lies are hurt feelings. It's life or death now. Like it was today. And we might not be so lucky next time. I know you understand that."

"I do, Miss."

"So can you promise to tell me things, even if they hurt me? Even if I want to hate you? Because if you tell me the truth I will be able to forgive you eventually. Unlike now."

"I will. I promise, yeah? I hate seein' ya upset."

"I do not need coddled Alfie. I've said this before. I am not a child, I am not naive. You tell me the bad. Not only the good. I can take it. I might scream and lash out but wouldn't you prefer that to me leaving you?"

"I'd prefer anyfing to that." he sighs out and you're touched by the soft tone. 

"Then let your actions show it. I don't give second chances Alfie, and here I am. My daft, softened heart giving way for you to learn a lesson without forcefully breaking yours."

"Thank you, love -Miss." he winces and waits to be hit but it doesn't come. "I promise to keep in mind you are not a fragile little thing to keep guarded in a box."

"Is that how you truly want me, Alfie? To be a kept little porcelain figurine on your shelf with no personality, no ambitions but to sit and be beautiful?"

"No, I love that you're fuckin' mad." he shakes his head and you see a charming grin come across his face. You slap his face and it stays. He can't see the entertained look on your face. 

"Don't push it you hound." he hears the amusement in your voice. "You don't want someone so easily broken do you?" you ask softly, sliding your leg up on the bed next to his.

"I do not." his voice dips low, keeping a grateful softness. 

"And neither do I." you hiss, straddling his lap. "But I'm going to try to break you today." you graze your nose against his. "I'm going to tease and hurt you and you're going to do what I say because you want me happy don't you? Wasn't that what all this lying was about? To keep me happy?"

"It was, truly, love. When you're upset I feel like I've failed you somehow."

"Oh you sweet pup." you scratch into his beard. "You're going to make me very happy right now then aren't you? Be a good boy for me and perhaps I'll be good to you. IF you earn it."

"I am, Miss. I want ya to be good to me. I wanna be good to ya." he says earnestly.

"In time." you say happily, glad he can't see the smile on your face. You let your dressing gown fall behind you to the floor and press your bare skin against his chest. His chest rises and falls dramatically as he comprehends what's going on. "Now I want to tease you." you say, lifting your breasts and rubbing your hard nipples against his chest. "You can't touch me with your hands like this. All tied up like a present for me. I know you must hate that." you laugh softly. "Having to imagine what I look like, completely naked and rubbing against you like this." You lift your self and press your breasts to either side of his face and he groans, moving his face to nuzzle against them. You sit down hard on his lap and he groans in pain. "I didn't say you could do that." your voice turns darker again and he swallows loudly. "This is for me, not you." you inform curtly. You rise again, batting him about the face with your breasts, knocking his head from side to side. "You love these big tits of mine don't you Alfie?" you purr. 

"I fuckin' do, Miss." he groans, licking his lips. 

"What do you like about them?" you keep pressing them to his face, your arms around his head from time to time, smothering him in them and going back to teasing your hard nipples to his bare skin.

"What's not to fuckin' like? Can I be crude, Miss?" he asks.

"You are learning and I am impressed." you chirp. "You may." you give him a good scratch to the chin for his behavior.

"They're fuckin' huge, love. I just wanna fuckin' smother to death in 'em. And the weight of 'em against me is just... I fuckin' think about 'em all the time. Want my mouth on 'em to show you how much I want you. The way they bounce when I fuck you and you ride me... fuck. When you're cold at night and I pull you against me and feel those perfect little brown nipples hard against me. And fuck me, the noises you make when I suck on your tits, love, it makes me so fuckin' hard I can't think 'bout anyfing else." he lets out a long exhale.

"Keep talking like that and you'll be rewarded." you give him a single chaste kiss to the cheek. "You want them in your mouth?" 

"Fuck, yes, love." his shoulders slump. 

"Open your mouth." and he does as you command. "But DON'T you dare move your lips." you say, placing one of the hard peaks, tracing it around his lips and he pants, shoulder shifting as he wants to touch you. "I bet you wish those big paws of yours were free to pull me into your mouth don't you?" you purr.

"Yes, Miss" he groans. 

"Too bad." you state flatly. "Stick out your tongue." you rub your nipple against the warm, wet surface and hum. "I do love it when you suck on these big tits Alfie. It makes me so wet." you whisper, a taunting smile on your face as you watch him try to not struggle against his bindings. You lower your hips down, taking them away from his mouth. "And it makes you hard doesn't it?" you state as you move your hips against his, feeling him growing beneath you. 

"It does." he groans, his mouth and tongue stuck out searching for your skin. 

"You want me to let that fat cock of yours out to play?" you whisper into his ear, dragging your tongue up the shell of it. 

He groans with a clenched jaw. "Yes, Miss."

"So he does like this." you say cheerfully, fingers teasing under his waistband. "But have you earned getting to feel me against you?" you ask rhetorically as you rub him over his trousers. 

"Let me." he rasps out. 

"You're not in the position to be asking things of me." you scold, giving his hardening cock a slap and he hisses. "Just for that I'm going to tease you more." you announce proudly, making quick work of his trousers and pants and leaving him bare on the bed. "Now look at you. Not even your pants to give you any friction." you deign. "So let's make it worse." you smile, taking the blindfold off of him. "Hello there my blue-eyed dog." you give him a scratch to his chin. 

"'Ello..." he slurs out, eyes looking over your naked body cause his cock to stir. 

""ello?" you ask, a slap to the underside of his cock and he turns his head and winces. 

"Miss. Bloody miss, 'Ello Miss." he grunts out and diverts his eyes. 

"Better." you say harshly, taking your breasts again and hitting him in the face with them. His groans move from pained to pleasurable quickly as you make his pillowy lips pucker with the squeezing of his face. "Not perfect but what should I expect from a man?" you patronize and his face shows he doesn't care in the least. You pull away from him, leaning down as if you were going to put your mouth on his cock, but hesitating, letting your hard nipples graze up his thighs, dragging them up on either side of his cock, a brief wobble of your chest to tease before hitching a leg up to drag them up his chest. "Open your mouth again. Don't make me tell you not to move again." you hiss, once again tracing his lips and tongue with the stiff peaks, the contact and the power from his helplessness making you wet. "Such a gorgeous mouth, truly." you coo. "Now suck." you command. He doesn't pause for consideration, eyes closing and mouth enveloping your breast as much as he could, grunting into it, harsh rhythmic sucking, watching the muscles in his neck tense from his enthusiasm. "What filthy whispers I've heard from them. Unfortunately also what lies." you tsk and pull them away, rising off of his body quickly, leaving him with fluttering lids and an open mouth. 

You turn around, looking around the room for inspiration for a moment, you hear a familiar grunt as he wants to bury his face into your peachy arse. "I hear you back there." you smirk. "You like my arse too?" you ask with a cheerful tone, placing your hands on his knees, running yourself up against his balls first then feeling him rest between the valley of your arse. 

"Yes, miss." he groans, you feel his thighs shifting beneath you. 

"Is there any part of me you don't like?" you laugh, bouncing yourself against him, causing him to pat heavy against you as you did. 

"No, miss." he whispers, nose twitching from the contact. 

"Right answer." you say, bouncing your cheeks at him with your hands underneath them, before bending over slowly, no longer touching him, letting him get a view of you. He could see the glimpse of soft hair and pink lips between your thighs as you bent, and his cock twitched at the sight, balls tightening with need. "And do you love this cunt?" you ask with a sweet tone, reaching behind you to spread yourself apart in front of him. 

"Unggg Yes, love - Miss." he corrects. 

"Tell me." you say, running your hands over the swell of your ass and down your thighs. 

"I fuckin' love that perfect little cunt of yours, Miss."

"Good boy." you say in reward, moving to a chair that sat not far from the edge of the bed, pulling it closer by bending over and backing towards him, giving him a good view. Out of reach, but close enough to see you, you spin and sit on the edge of the chair. You caress your chest and down your thighs, spreading them, kneading the soft flesh up to your center. Hitching a leg over the arm of the chair, you begin to tease around your lips. "Have you ever seen such a pretty little puss Alfie?" you ask with a smile, fingers now pressing against your slit.

"No Miss." he groans, eyes fixated. 

"Such a soft and pink little thing isn't she?" you purr affectionately, looking down at yourself, fingers sliding between your lips, holding them open for him, causing him to groan. "And expert at taking your cock."

"Yes she is Miss" he groans, licking his lips. 

"You are so lucky Alfie. To get the privilege to fuck such a well cared for and maintained cunt you know? I keep her tight and soft and wet for you don't I?" 

"Yes Miss you do." he whines.

You begin to rub your clit, humming in pleasure, hips starting to shift back and forth. "You want it don't you?"

"Fuck yes I do miss." he pants.

You throw your other leg up, leaning back on full display. "I can tell from that cock of yours." you grin, biting your lip and continuing to rub, closing your eyes and giving him a show, moaning and shifting, rubbing fast then slow and back again. "I'm so wet, Alfie." you moan, opening your eyes to find him standing at attention for you, your give a few firm slaps to your center and he lets out a deep grunt. "You're licking your lips, do you want a taste?" you tease. 

"Yes Miss." he nods, eyes not leaving you. 

You slide your fingers inside you, a showy moan and throwback of your head. You stand quickly, strutting over to him and sliding your fingers into his mouth. "Taste it." you whisper, letting him suck your fingers, his tongue lapping away at them inside his mouth and let out a content hum of appreciation. "Good boy," you say, putting the wet fingers back between your legs and moaning. "Such a good boy." you rasp, throwing your leg over him again, a strong grab and slap to his hip before you take hold of his cock and slide it against your wet center. 

His mouth drops open as he swears, lip twitching at the contact before his eyes swing back up to your face. 

"I feel you throbbing for it." you taunt, sliding yourself against him.

"Yes Miss." he wheezes, lips hanging open and wet, eyes looking up at you. 

"Look at you, panting for it with those puppy dog eyes." you hold his cheek with your free hand, grazing your nose against him. "Would you like a kiss, pup?" you ask softly.

"Yes, Miss." he nods.

"Such a soft thing." you purr before teasing him again, licks and grazes of your lips against his before giving in after taking in his strung-out face. When you let him kiss you, he moans. A moan into a kiss was something new and you were thrilled by the arrival of the deep noise, it meant your teasing was working. You give into for a bit, kissing back with tongue and teeth as he pushed against you, starving for more contact. Not having his arms free was extremely frustrating and that annoyance was only making his blood pump faster and make him want you more. 

You rise off him to stand between his legs, keeping your kiss intact before hiving him a hard, tight tug and he grunts, breaking the kiss. "Too rough?" you ask with a tilt of your head, another hard tug from the base, jerking his hips forward. 

"Mmmph." he answers at first, hesitant to tell you now, fearing he might receive worse. "Yes Miss." he answers sheepishly. 

"Oh he doesn't like a rough wank?" you taunt, giving him a few more and watching him wince. "Shame, that." you sigh. "Guess I'll have to be nice to this cock won't I?" you pout. "I'll need it throbbing hard to fuck me right, won't I?" you keep rubbing against him, drawing out a moan. "And I do plan on having you fuck me right, Alfie." you sigh out against his lips. The sound of his name makes him grunt, forgetting the rough grip on him already. "If you can be a good boy."

"I can Miss."

"You want to be a good boy?" you ask, letting him go, a playful pinch to his inner thighs before you turn and bend over again, reaching back to stroke him. 

"Yes Miss."

"You want to fuck me?" you tease, rubbing his head against your wet slit. 

He groans and shifts "Yes, miss." 

"Then come get it." you say, letting him go, hands on your ankles in front of him. "Fuck me if you want to so badly." you say in a harsh, bossy tone.

You feel his legs try to move him in a way to get to you, scooting to the end of the bed but he can't get the leverage without his arms in use.

"Fuck me, Alfie. C'mon." you bounce your ass at him and laugh. "Oh can the poor pup not manage?" you pout, looking back at his red and drawn face. "Poor baby." you laugh, bouncing your ass at him with your hands. You turn back, moving quickly to straddle him, connecting in a kiss he didn't see coming. "You don't get to fuck me unless I let you. This cunt isn't yours, it's mine." you bite his lip. "But this cock." you nod and reach between your legs to wrap around him again. "This cock is mine. It doesn't go anywhere or do anything unless I give it permission. You understand?"

"Yes miss."

"Tell me it's mine." you growl

"It's yours miss." he sighs. 

"And you. All of you. Is mine." you growl, rubbing yourself against him, your fingers light against the head of his cock. "Tell me." you demand, grabbing him roughly again. 

"I'm yours. it's all yours Miss"

"You are mine. All mine." you coo, your switching of mean to sweet making his brow furrow as he tried to anticipate what you would do next but he didn't know and it made his heart race. "Do you want me to be yours, Alfie?"

"Yes, Miss."

"You want me to stay with you? Always? Do you want to keep this little cunny happy?"

"Yes love, please. Miss, yes."

"Do you need me Alfie?" you taut him with a soft voice.

"Yes, love, I need you. Miss." he rushes out, forgetting himself as he sees your body rising and falling in a serpentine fashion against him. 

"Will you be a good boy and behave? Listen to what your misses says? Do as you're told?"

"Yes miss." he groans, voice more desperate. 

"Are you going to act like the grown fucking man I know you are? Because that's what I want Solomons. A grown. Fucking. Man." you bite out against him. "I don't need a boy who lies. I want a man to face the consequences of his actions. One that will fuck me proper and love me even harder. Are you that man, darling?"

"Yes, love I am. I'll prove it to you. I love you, Gen and I'm mad about you. Let me show you, love. Let me keep you." his eyes are wide and you see the sincere feelings behind his words.

You lean in to kiss his flushed face. "Desperation for me does look so delicious in your eyes, Alfie." you kiss his cheek. "I won't leave you. You silly beast." you whisper into his ear, nuzzling against his face. "Not today anyway." you huff out a laugh. "Since you said please. And I am absolutely soaked and aching for your cock I suppose it's time to reward you for this good behavior." you run your tongue up the side of his face. "Does a good boy want his misses to fuck him?" 

"Yes, fuck, please, Gen. Me balls are fuckin' purple from this, love."

"Does it hurt?" you say condescendingly.

"Yes, it fuckin' does love. I've never needed someone as badly as I do you right now." his voice is raspy and urgent and you give another lick to his lips, a happy groan from you. 

"I'll let you inside me. But I'm taking what I need from you first. I'll be fucking you, not the other way around." you tap his nose in punctuation as you slide off him and onto the bed. "Come now. Use those sturdy legs." you instruct, grabbing his arms and hauling him up onto the bed. His wide eyes show his surprise for your strength and you give him a cheeky smile. You even give him pillows to let his arm lay in a less painful way as you push him down and straddle him. 

Moving fast, keeping him on his toes, you slide down onto him, his head falls back and he lets out an open-mouthed moan. 

"That's what I want to hear." you purr, slapping your hands down onto his chest and starting a fast pace, bouncing yourself against him, a quick slap of skin, broken with grinding down hard on him, rubbing yourself against him. "Look at me love. Watch me take your cock." you say breathily, leaning back with your hands on his legs and riding him as hard as you could. His eyes are dark and half-lidded, watching himself pump in and out of you. Eyes wandering over your thighs as they slam into him, your tits bouncing and ribs shifting under your skin as your moans grow louder. 

"Fuck, Gen I-

"DON'T YOU DARE FUCKING COME!" you shout, leaning forward and slapping him hard across the face. "Don't even fucking think about it. I'm coming all over this cock first. You can't come until I want you to. This cock is MINE." you growl, pounding him as hard as you can, holding his throat firmly. "Fuck me harder and make me come, Alfie. I want us both soaked to our thighs after I'm done with you. Make me come all over that fat cock, you dog."

He grits his teeth and prays, planting his feet as best he could and using his stomach to push back into your assault on his hips. 

"That's it. Fuck me Solomons." your growl continues, one hand on his chest now, leaning back and rubbing your clit. "Show me this your cunny. Make it yours. Make me come." you demand, starting to lose the fight against the oncoming orgasm. Your hips falter and your nails dig into his skin making him hiss. Your eyes roll back dramatically heading falling back as you let loud, body folding moans up toward the canopy of the bed. "Good boy. Such a GOOD. FUCKING. BOY." you growl and shout, grinding against him as you snarl, eyes fluttering back open to meet his, yours looking black against your flushed face as they glared down at him. "Now if I untie you will you make me come again? Fuck me like a good boy, hmmm?"

"Yes, fuckin', GAH let me at you love, fuckin' christ." he squirms as you laugh loudly at his desperation.

"There's my man." you lean to bite his lip before swinging your leg off of him and rolling him to his front. "Don't struggle so much, or it'll hurt more." you say, your knowledgeable fingers working against the ropes as quickly as they could. He moans and groans into the bed as the grip loosens, his fingers moving again as you watching the veins pulse underneath his flushed skin. "Come now, on your back, slowly." you say, giving him a rub between the shoulder blades.

"Fuckin' 'ell." he grumbles rolling back over. 

"Let them readjust first. Eager." you smirk and rub his shoulders.

"I'm gonna make that bossy little cunny mine as soon as me fuckin' arms work." he groans, a hint of playfulness in his voice at his inability to pounce. 

"Good. That's what I want. A man who can take AND give." you whisper, licking your lips and rubbing his forearms. You place his hands on your breasts. "Play with them, it'll help." you wink and giggle, and he grabs them tightly, tighter than you thought he might be able to but you loved the thrill of it. He gives one a slap. "Oh! So rough." you taunt and grin.

"Gonna show you fuckin' rough." he growls, no tease in his voice now, only need. He grabs you and slams you face first into the bed. A hard slap to your arse first, followed by another, then you hear a hungry growl followed by a hard bite to the same area. 

"C'mon you big dog, fuck me." you say, getting up on your knees. 

Without a word he slaps over your slit, a stinging and not playful hit. He pushes into you, only breathing and wordless noises, he had embraced the beast you'd been calling him and let it out. Having been teased for longer than he ever had before, he needed a fierce release at your expense. 

He comes at you hard, your brace against the headboard, hand wrapped around the edge as his nails make tiny rivulets of blood run down your thighs he holds you so tightly. You love this urgency you feel in him, this raw need you wanted to feel. You wanted it to hurt, to be hard and bruising to fuck the anger out of you. 

He slaps your arse over and over, red and welting as he grunts and growls, a hard pounding into you. He scratches his way up your back, hand gathering your hair, making a messy fist of it to yank your head back, then pounding into you as he slapped your arse and thighs and held you up by your hair.

"Yes you fucking beast, make this cunny yours, Solomons." you cry out, eyes in the back of your head and your shame nowhere to be seen. "This is why I let you act like a fucking fool. Because you can do this. This is why I let you do this because you give me what I need. You're such a good fucking boy all red and angry, aren't you?" you demand and he pushes you down on the bed, his full weight on you. "Fuck yes, take me like a fucking beast, Alfie, yes." you cry out.

"Such a fuckin' slag for this cock, little Genny." his breath hot and heavy in your ear as he lets out every bit of negative emotion against you. "You aren't fuckin' leavin' me. You can't. You couldn't live without this cock you little fuckin' tart." he slaps your cheek, hand in your hair and pressing your face into the bed. "No one's gonna fuck you betta than me you fuckin' posh little cunt." he bites at you. "You ARE mine. You'll ALWAYS be mine. Do YOU understand?" he shouts and you nod and gasp, your mouth opening and shouting as his words brought on another orgasm. "That's it, pet, fuckin' come around your beasts cock. This what you want yeah? To treat me like an animal then get fucked like one? You filthy girl." he groans and shouts, losing himself as you squeeze around him. "Feels so fuckin good, little one, such a tight cunny for me and so fuckin' wet you little bossy bitch." he slaps your arse again and you squeal, he sees the unfiltered delight across your face. "Fuck me you are fuckin' filthy. You like those crude names, pet?"

"Yes, fucking tell me how bad I am." you moan, drooling out onto the bed. 

"My perfect little misses like being called a dirty fuckin' slag? Fuckin' 'ell." he moans, resting his head against your back for a moment to catch his breath. 

"I'm your Madonna and your whore, Alfie." you cry out helplessly. "Take this cunt, love, fill me up and make it yours."

"Gonna." he gruffs out, holding you down by your lower back, pounding into you, bringing on another orgasm at the new deep angle. "Again? So fuckin' hungry for it, pet." he scolds, a growing growl in his chest begins, and you're swimming in your own bliss inside your head, convulsing under him and being hit hard and heavy into. "Ah, fuck, Genny. Gonna have me drippin' outta you for fuckin' days with what you caused." he barks through gritted teeth, pushing into you as far as he could, his mouth opening and letting out a loud, wanton moan that caused you to shudder against him. "Fuck me." he pants out, dropping to his elbows first then letting his body rest on top of yours. You feel his heaving against you, and you hum contently, shutting your eyes. "Alright love?" he mumbles out against your sweat-soaked skin.

"Mmm Hmm." you nod. "Perfect." you sigh out. You stay there for a little while, catching your breath, enjoying the warmth of him against you, the weight making you feel safe and secure. His words making you feel satisfied with the punishment you gave and took. 

He lifts himself off of you, arms shakey as he rolls to his back, legs limp and hands on his stomach. You move with a soft grunt, although slowly. "Covers, love." you manage out, pulling them down and he grunts and groans, letting you pull them out from under him without grace and cover you both back up.

"Feel like a bath is due now with what filth that was." he lets out a deep, lazy chuckle. 

"What beautiful filth it was." you sigh, snuggling against him your happy expression and kitten like mannerism such a shock after what transpired. 

"You really okay with what I called you?"

"That was the best hate fuck I've ever had and if we're angry you could call me almost anything and I'd be perfectly accepting of it. I like the pain and the punishment after giving it out. Exhausts me mentally and physically. It's what I need."

"And are you worn out, love?" 

"Entirely." you hum. 

"So you ain't mad now?"

"Not right now no."

"Have I found a way to keep you from fuckin' killin' 'n leavin' me?" he grins.

"Perhaps." you laugh and kiss his chest. "Just be honest with me. Fuck me right and be sweet afterward and we'll have no problems."

"So if we fight... we'll just have us a good hate fuck and work it out the old fashioned way?" he smirks, eyes shut and hand stroking your hair.

"Yes, sir." you giggle.

"Oh. Almost felt me cock stir on that one." he chuckles. "Can't wait for you to be naughty and have to tie you up and you call me 'at."

"Knowing me it will be sooner than later won't it?" you laugh and look up at him, his face at rest, a soft smile on his face.

"Yes it will my filthy little girl."


	69. The Boy I Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song for the chapter is The Boy I Love Is Up In The Gallery. (Old song, not sure of the origin. It's on Spotify.)  
> Gen takes a job with Tommy and Alfie, as always, sticks his nose into it. Coming to an agreement to put the bad blood between them to bed, Tommy gives Alfie and Gen a more official sort of job to do together.

You give curt nods to the boys in the bakery, your feet moving fast towards Alfie's office. 

"Does he have a spare moment Ollie?" you ask sweetly, a smile that's always relieved at your presence comes over the tall boys face. 

"He does, go on in." he gives you a nod, going back to taking his pen to the papers. 

You give a knock and open the door. "I'm looking for Mr. Solomons but you're far too handsome to be him." you giggle and shut the door behind you. "You've had your spring trim early, darling." you chirp, moving to him as he stands, his beard trimmed and tamed, his hair shorter on the sides, no longer the messy and unruly nest it had been.

"Gotta keep up wif you now don't I?" he says, leaning down to kiss you as you hold his cheeks. 

"I do love you looking much like a beast but this version is unfairly handsome as well. Before I wanted to eat myself silly and hibernate with you and now I want you to take me out to a nice dinner and then make me be unladylike behind closed doors." you give him a giggle, your tongue peeking out from between your teeth.

"I can do both, love." he laughs as you scratch his face gently. "What do I owe the pleasure, pet?" he asks, his arms moving to wrap around your waist.

"I was on the way out of town. Wanted to see you before I left."

"Where ya goin'?" his brow lowers and he gives you an accusatory look.

"I have a job tonight, remember?"

"Ah. Yes." he nods slowly. 

"Well at least I know you won't have me followed since you forgot." you laugh.

"Can't very well send me men after you if you don't tell me where ya goin'."

"Well it's a job, sweetheart, you know I don't tell you my paid work. Business confidentiality and all." you give him a shrug and kiss to his grumpy face. "I'll be home in the early morning I believe. So you can come over for afternoon tea and we'll spend some time together, yes?" you tilt your head up at him, trying to butter him up. Your hands run up and down his chest as you coo sweetly at him. 

"I suppose I could come see ya. Workin' on Shabbat though." he tsks and grins. 

"We've both done far worse." you wrinkle your nose affectionately at him. "I think I can be excused as it's money to put away for the wedding." you say with a bashful smile.

"Ya savin' up are ya?"

"I am." you nod. "I've been taking some extra jobs to give us a good nest egg to start with."

"I thought I was supposed to be the one supportin' you."

"We are untraditional and modern in our approach, Alfie. If I work hard, it'll only make us richer. You aren't expecting me to stay home and do nothing but wait to have babies are you?"

"'Course not, don't be daft, love. You'd never go for that. No matter if I wanted it or not." he grins and leans down to kiss you. 

"Is that what you want?" you ask with a surprised tone in your voice.

"Not realistically no. But let an old man have his fantasies, eh?" he chuckles and kisses your cheek. 

"I can play a good little wife and mum for you. Don't have to worry about that." you nuzzle into him. "I couldn't go about my regular criminal work while pregnant anyway, could I? So perhaps you'll get to live your fantasy for a bit, hmmm?"

"Comin' home to you in such a state is somefin I've given more thought to as of late." he speaks softly against your skin.

"Is it now?"

"Been puttin' together plans for an engagement, a wedding, gets a man thinkin' 'bout what might come after ya know."

"I do adore it when you speak of a future together." you hum contently. "And as much as I'd like to sit and fantasize with you I must be off, darling. Perhaps we'll indulge in it tomorrow night?" you say cheerfully, hands back to his face to swipe your thumbs across his cheeks.

"Gimmie a proper kiss before you leave now, pet." he playfully pouts and you laugh into the kiss you share before he pulls you close and runs his fingers through your hair. 

"With kisses like that I may very well want to stay home and have you try to put a baby in me." you laugh and he gives you a charming grin. "I love you, darling. No need to worry, won't be in any danger tonight. So rest well and say hello to the pup for me. I'll see you both again soon."

"Not soon enough." he gives your bum a good squeeze and taps his finger to the tip of you nose. "Love you Genny Bee, you be safe, yeah? Don't take any shite from anyone."

"Do I ever?" you say with a confused tilt of your head before blowing him a kiss and giving him a wink before leaving. 

Alfie sits back at his desk, putting his glasses back to his nose. "Give you lads enough time to find out where she's goin'?" he asks gruffly as Ollie walks into the room.

"You did." Ollie nods.

"Talk about marriage and babies with her and she'll titter on. Almost feel guilty for it. Too easy." he grins. 

"Well, you do plan to-?" Ollie asks with concern.

"OF COURSE I FUCKIN' DO!" he shouts. "Don't be so bloody thick, lad. Not that it's any of your concern." he shakes his head, face looking disappointed. "So where's she goin'?" his voice returns to normal. 

"A job in Birmingham, sir." Ollie informs him. Having one of the boys talk to your driver to find out where you were headed. He wouldn't have you followed without prior knowledge now, but he wasn't going to be left in the dark about where you were going. 

"Fuckin' Birmingham?" he says with a snarled lip, looking over to the other man.

"Yes. A Shelby job apparently. She's off to the Garrison." he informs. 

"Fuckin' Shelby's." he grumbles. "Don't trust 'em, mate. Don't fuckin' trust that Tommy." he shakes his head and rubs between his eyes. 

"Should I ready the car for a trip to Birmingham sir?" Ollie says knowingly, hiding a smirk. 

"Yeah. I ain't leavin' her in Tommy's hands. Don't care if he's a fuckin' member of Parliment now or not. Don't trust the lyin' gypsy. Give her time to get outta the city. Let me finish 'is and we'll go." he waves him away and returns to the contract he was looking over. 

\-----------  
Tommy had given you a call to do a quick kill in his hometown for him. He was a member of Parliment now and didn't want to get his hands dirty personally, even though he had personal qualms with the man. The man, as was all the men he asked you to kill for him, was known to hurt women. You perkily accepted, feeling like it'd been too long since you'd gotten to take down an abuser. 

"Hello, darling." you say as you lean in to kiss his cheek before sliding to stand next to him in the back room of the Garrison. "Did the wife and baby get the gifts I sent?" you inquire when he gives you his signature subtle smile, the best you would get from Tommy. 

"They did. Lizzie sends her thanks." he gives a slow nod looking out across the bar.

"So is this gentleman here?" you ask quietly, your hands clasped in front of you.

"He will be shortly. I knew some people who wanted to see you before you had to work and leave."

"Oh, who's that?"

He turns and gives you a smirk before turning his face back towards the door. "They'll be here in just a moment. If they are in fact on time." he gives a quick look to his watch. "It is nice to see you though, Gen." he gives a calm nod your way.

"I'm happy to see you as well. You look well." you motion to his pressed new suit. "Work and the new family suiting you it seems." you give him a sweet smile. You wanted to let him know you would never hold it against him for moving on from Grace. You would support Lizzie and Ruby just the same as you did him and Charlie while they were solo. You were happy Charlie got a little sister to care for, the boy was rather sweet and she should have a constant playmate. 

"It's going just fine, Gen. I could ask the same of you." another smirk comes across his face.

"So you have heard then?" you say with a smirk that suggests the same. 

"Everyone has." 

"And anything you'd like to say now so I can work out my anger for your snide remarks later in the evening?" you joke.

"No." he presses his lips together, his face still calm and collected. 

"That's all? No?" you put one of your hands on your hip. "I pair off with one of the big scary London boys and that's all I get?" you chuckle.

"I did know it was bound to happen. You two living together and all that." his words are smooth and omniscient. "I did help you secure his trust if you recall."

"I do and thank you for that. It's helped ease my mind tremendously."

"You do look happy though." he finally shifts his eyes to meet yours, a more sincere look shared.

"I am happy."

"And that's all that matters, eh?" he quirks a brow.

"You know that is entirely not the truth."

He hums in amusement. "Good to see you still have your wits about you."

"I may love the stubborn beast but I am still very much aware of who I am as an individual and my place as a woman in this life we lead, Tommy."

"Reassuring, that." he gives you another nod. "So it's love now is it?" another smirk.

"Yes. We're in love." you say in a defensive but playful way. "No one was more surprised than I was about it." you huff out a laugh.

"And what of marriage?"

"We've discussed it and I'm waiting on him to ask formally. Seems I've rubbed off on him, says he wants to do it properly in a fashion I would approve of."

"Knows to keep his woman happy." he nods. "Perhaps there's hope for him yet." he grins and you see him raise his glass to someone across the room. 

Before you're lifted in the air, triggering a squeal from you as you hear the deep throaty voice of Arthur making a happy roar as he squeezed you. 

"GENNY! LOVE! I THOUGHT I'S NEVER TO SEE YA AGAIN!" he says sitting you down and moving you in for a proper hug.

"Hello my darling peach." you coo, patting his face and giving him a kiss to the cheek. "I didn't know you would be here!"

"We all try 'n come to the Garrison from time to time since Tommy's a big man now 'n all. Keep up appearances he says." he gives a nod as you straighten his jacket back. 

"And you," you say with a big grin. "Did you get the gifts I sent for Esme and the new baby?" you ask as you wrap your arms around John's neck. 

"We did, they send their thanks. As always." he says with a shake of his head. "Mrs. Solomons." he grins.

"I am not yet a Solomons. But it would seem I will in time. Don't jump the gun on that." you wag a finger at him and give him a scolding. 

"I heard you two's been snuggled up like a couple 'a pups in his club. Snoggin' away and drinkin' wine. Who knew the old man had it in him to have a good time." Arthur laughs.

"Old man? You're the same age, Arthur." you snort out a laugh. "How would you like it if I started calling you old man?"

"I'd fuckin' agree!" he laughs. 

"Well none of you look old in these new suits, I must say." you praise and they peacock a bit.

"Come with the new territory. Like fuckin' henchmen nowadays." John snorts and shoots a look to Tommy. 

"So same as always?" you say with a sassy smile and they both grumble and smile at you. 

"Heard you's here for work, sweetheart?" Arthur asks.

"I am."

"Anyfing I can help with?"

"No, this is a Shelby hands-off production I'm afraid. Just a little woman defending herself from a big drunk, handsy bloke." you say with a delicate delivery.

"Anyone that knows you knows 'ats a lie."

"Good thing I don't know anyone but you boys here then, hmmm?" you grin.   
\--------

The man eventually shows and you sit and titter about and gossip with the boys, letting the man get good and drunk. Not only would it make fighting easier, but the more belligerent the man got the more your story would check out, and the higher the alcohol content in his system the faster he would bleed out. So it was win-win really. You got to catch up with your boys, getting to meet Michael who had been overseas and spend some time with Finn who hadn't been out on jobs as he'd been too young, but he seemed to be coming up nicely, despite the company he kept. 

Once you had a moment alone with Tommy, you go out for some air, the smoke getting to you as you weren't accustomed to it, seeing as Alfie didn't allow his men to smoke in the bakery due to the explosive nature of the bread. You share a cigarette with Arthur, him making fun of your coughing but you wanted a boost before you offed this fellow. 

"Do you recognize that car over there Arthur? Look but don't be obvious, please." you say taking a drag.

"They all bloody look alike anymore don't they?" he laughs, having a stretch and taking a look.

"Much smoother than I thought that was going to go." you snort.

"Oh fuck off, Genny I do have grace when I'm able."

"My apologies, dear." you grin.

"I don't recognize it. But the fellow has those little curls like your people dunnit he?"

"I noticed that as well." you say, passing the cigarette back to him. "Looks as if my misses might be in a spot of trouble with me if that's what I think it is." you say with an annoyed look on your face.

"Anyfing wrong? Need me to go run 'em off?"

"No, no." you shake your head. "Could be nothing. Don't know why any Jews would be here though. We don't own anything in this area. Smells like pig all the time too." you laugh. "We'll wait it out. I've got a job to do." you say with a pat to his cheek and moving back inside the Garrison.

"Tommy." you call out calmly. "I might have visitors."

"Eh?" he says turning to face you.

"There is a car that is vaguely familiar and I see a Jewish gentleman in it outside. I do not recognize him but just in case they hear a ruckus and come in to help me, you can have someone at the door to hold them off."

"Why are they hear and why would they come in?" he asks with a low brow.

"Alfie has the tendency to have me followed so I don't get kidnapped or hurt."

"Smart man."

"I knew you'd say that. You two are alike in the most controlling, annoying sort of ways." you roll your eyes. "I'm assuming he found out I was here, although I didn't tell him as to avoid such a thing. But just in case..." you shrug. "I wanted to let you know. Could be nothing though." you say reassuringly.

"I know no other reason but you that there would be any of your people up here."

"Those were my thoughts as well. But I'm being transparent with you."

"Yes." he nods. "And what if it's Solomons himself eh? Come to save you from the devious Shelby?" he smirks.

"Oh hell," you grumble. "If it is perhaps I'll need you to do a bit of lying for me. An act of solidarity between us to ease his stubborn arse and suspicions?"

"How many bullets are in that gun of guilt of yours Genny?" he gives you a subtle smile.

"As many as it takes." you return the expression.

\------------------

It was entirely easy for you to have the man come onto you. You removed your fur coat and let your red dress flash and catch his attention. The man was large and had drawn attention as you slapped away his big greasy paws as they tried to touch you. It went all as usual with these types, telling him to stop or you would defend yourself. Some crude comment on your appearance, wishing you would come at him. You warn him again, telling him he will not like what you will do to him. He ignores your words. You shout out that you are going to act in self-defense if he does not cease, and a handful of men around the pub look your way. Mostly drunk and slowly comprehending what was happening, not moving as their glazed eyes got distracted by your brightly colored appearance. 

"Have it your way." you say, reaching back and grabbing a bottle, breaking it over his head, only to daze him. It would take a good bit of effort to finish off a man this big, but with his hands touching you and his crude words too near your face and too close to threats you let the knowledge of his previous harm to women fuel you and you take him down. Slashes about his face with the broken end of the bottle, before jabbing it into his neck and twisting, taking him down as you growl out declarations of vengeance for the women that couldn't fight back. 

You stand, a splattering of blood across your face and you set the makeshift knife on the bar top where it's taken delicately by a barkeep who hands you a towel. 

"Well then." you nod give a nod and take a deep breath, standing back up straight and looking out in the crowd of faces still in shock. "That's that." you say with a cheerful disposition and the crowd breaks out into messy applause. You laugh and see Arthur leading them on, clapping loudly.

"Show 'em no one fucks with ya Genny!" he hollers, and whoops, revving up the crowd. 

"Fuckin' 'ave 'im lassie!" you hear loudly and take a little bow and curtsy that leads to whistles and you let out a charming laugh. 

"Whayyyy!" men cheer as you sit perched on the bar, taking shots and getting high off attention and drunk off gin like the old days. It'd been so very long since you'd had this sort of male attention and you were feeling terribly nostalgic. The piano is playing and drinking songs are sung by the men, a glorious time was being had all around. 

"Play the one I used to sing in the pubs with her!" you shout to Tommy. He knew exactly who and which you meant. A smile that reflects less sadness than it used to is shared between the two of you. 

"The boy I love is up in the gallery." he says to the man at the piano, a nod as he sighs and takes a drink. He raises his glass to you and you do the same, handing it off to a random man close to you as you stand up on the bar top. 

"I'm a young girl and I've just come over..." you begin with a big breath, eyes shut and singing loudly, feet walking across the bar with men looking up at you and you putting on a show. This moment of showmanship, lost so entirely in the attention of a crowd must've been why you didn't see Alfie walk in. The crowd doesn't pay him much mind, even though his wide hat and scowling, ready to be defensive face set him apart from everyone else. 

He sees you and quirks a brow and huffs out a laugh. So much for you being in trouble, he thought. He could tell you were drunk, but you did have a lovely singing voice and he hadn't seen your face this certain kind of happy before. He sees Tommy from across the bar and gives a nod that they share, he then motions with his hand to you and Tommy shrugs, giving a smile. 

As you spin to walk down the bartop facing the other way you open your eyes and see the boy you loved. "And amongst the boys I've got me a lover..." you say with a big bright smile that he has to work hard to not give back to you. He keeps a scolding face and you stay bright and cheery, walking over to the end of the bar closest to him and pointing and singing to him. He pretends to be annoyed, he wasn't used to this sort of behavior in you and even if you did look lovely and were being very doting he wasn't sure how to handle it. He was among men and had an image to keep up. But what sort of man would he be to ignore the affections of a woman like you? "The boy I love is looking now at me..." you bat your lashes and put your hand to your chest and laugh, making another walk back and forth, having to mind to stop singing due to his appearance. "The boy I love they call him a baker, but he is not a baker allow me to state." you give a big corny wink to him and you see Tommy hide a laugh into his glass as you change the words to the original to better suit him. You hear John and Arthur's laughs above the crowd, sat on a table in a booth that held an amused look Michael and Finn. "Alfie is a tradesman and he works in the borough..." you slide and spin, changing the name to his as he gives you his signature scowl, lip disappearing under his mustache. You continue the song, singing straight to Alfie who is giving you a side eye. "Now If I were a duchess and had lots of money, I'd give it to the boy that's gonna marry me." you tap the end of his nose and he swats your hand away as your nose wrinkles in a giddy and delighted expression. His scowl softening but lips still tight. "But I haven't got a penny so we live on love and kisses." you blow kisses his way and the man he's with is now chuckling and looking at his boss. You stand and sing dramatically the last lines, lifting your arms and belting it out, the men in the crowd now singing along. "I'm afraid the boy I love has come to break up the fun!" you say to the crowd who gives a playful and very drunken noise of disapproval.

"Come down ya mad, drunken little bird." Alfie gruffs, shaking his head and holding his hand out to you. 

"Goodnight you lovely boys!" you say, moving to bow and slipping on some discarded liquor as you were about to step down. Alfie moves quickly and catches you, your wide eyes meeting his lovingly disapproving ones as the crowd shouts 'whhayyyyy!" in celebration again. 

"My hero!" you giggle and wraps your arms around his neck, kissing his cheek and leaving lipstick on his face. 

"Ridiculous." he grumbles, a small smile showing through as he carries you to the booth the Shelby's were sitting in. 

Tommy holds back and watches Alfie with you, seeing him hide his adoration as you wiped the lips prints off his face with your bright and adoring eyes sparkling at him. He sees you truly did love him and he did you. He was touched for the briefest of moments. The music and singing in the bar not having been around since Grace, seeing you happy which was something his Grace had always wanted for you. He takes a deep breath before walking over to join you in the booth. 

"Some fuckin' job 'is is, eh?" he says, holding your chin and examining the state of your eyes. 

"She already did her part of the deal. I was letting the lass have her fun." Tommy says. 

"I'm relieved she is not workin' as a showgirl for ya, yeah?" he says with pursed lips in his usual gruff delivery. 

"You followed me up here you naughty boy!" you say patting his cheek. 

"I did. Because 'a you doin' somefin fuckin' mad like 'is, love." he says obviously sighing and putting his arm around you as you snuggled up to him. "And because frankly, I don't know if I trust you, mate." he wags a finger at Tommy.

"Darling, you can."

"Can I? After what he tried to do to you?" he says looking down at your pouting face.

"Perhaps its time we came clean, Gen." Tommy says, looking over to you.

"Perhaps." you say sitting back up straight. 

"What the fuck is 'is?" he grunts, his brow lowering and mouth frowning.

"I have known Gen longer than you, yeah? I feel protective over her in a way, as it is what Grace would've wanted," he says quietly, Alfie's face turns slightly confused at the mention of Tommy's deceased ex-wife. "I told her not to trust you," he states clearly. "For reasons, I'm sure you understand." he snarks.

"Yeah, and?" he gruffs out.

"So I suggested a plan to test your loyalty to her."

Alfie blinks. "Ya fuckin' wot?"

"I knew what your weakness would be if you were not to be trusted. So I played off of that and Gen agreed to it."

"I had to know if I could trust you, darling. Women don't get second chances in this line of work." you say, your eyes large and full of apologies.

He sighs and grits his teeth, looking back over to Tommy. "I told her I'd test you for her. As a means to make it up to her for losing the egg."

"He owed me." you say with a smirk to Tommy.

"I did. And I knew she was starting to like you, eh? I didn't want her getting hurt. In either business or a personal sense."

"Grace would've come back to haunt him if he let me get hurt I'm certain of it." you smile and sigh, fondly remembering her worry for your choices in lifestyle, particularly after she married Tommy. 

"I'm not entirely sure you're wrong." he says with a nod before returning his eyes to Alfie.

"You 'n your gypsy nonsense." Alfie grumbles and you poke his side hard.

"I know you've held it against me. But I have some business that I'd like both of you to be involved with and I'd like to be able to put this misunderstanding behind us. As long as Gen is with you, I will be an ally to you, Alfie."

"And what if we aren't together?" he lifts his chin and narrows his eyes.

"Then we can go back to fucking each other over can't we?" he smiles with his eyes in response behind his gold-framed glasses. 

Alfie grunts, his eyes narrowed in consideration, staring at Tommy who doesn't flinch until he turns his face to you. "You didn't trust me?" he asks, no hurt about it in his face. 

"Would you have trusted you if you were me?" you ask with a tilt of your head and a press of your lips. 

"Mmmph." he nods, continuing to stare at you. 

"When I told you that night..." you lean in to whisper. "In the bathtub. I meant it. Because I knew I could. All that was true. I couldn't give myself over or open up to you fully until I knew the truth. Everyone was telling me not to trust you. And your track record is shit. Even you must admit that."

He nods and thumbs his nose. 

"I have to protect myself as a woman and a business owner. As someone with a lot to lose. I couldn't have some man come in and make a fool of me. I'd never forgive myself. And I trust you now." you put your hand on his stomach and give him a look that you know to soften him. "I couldn't let a man take away all the rewards my hard work have given me. And you are not known for your loyalty, Alfie."

"I hear your reasons." he gruffs out, eyes moving across the table, showing uncertainty. "I'm not thrilled with your means of action but..." he shrugs and returns his face to yours. "We aren't alotted room for error. Especially not a woman." he agrees, lips tight.

"And I trust you now. I hope you trust me as well."

"I know." he answers simply. "Wouldn't be with you if I didn't, yeah?" he raises his brows obviously. "You innit the only one with somefin to lose."

"That's why trust is so important." you say sweetly.

"And it was your doin'?" he turns to Tommy, his arched brow high and intimidation set face back. 

"Yes." he nods once and keeps a straight face. "In the spirit of trust, I have some information I'd like to share with you both. If you're willing to hear it, Alfie."

"Alright." he picks at his beard. "I'm listenin'."

"Arthur." he motions his head to his brother who is standing by the archway to the room. He pulls the curtains to. "I can't tell you this in any official capacity. But I'm sure you've heard of the fascists trying to start their party and get footing here in Britain." he says with a quiet voice and serious face.

"Aye." Alfie nods, his voice cautious, you elect to nod in agreement. 

"In Germany, as I'm sure you've heard, the Nazi party is gaining power and starting to reach out to like-minded individuals here. Teaming up with the fascists and trying to get power here under a different name, but the same sort of ideas."

"Aye." Alfie gruffs out, fully aware and as always full of thousands of years of rage for the mention of antisemitism. 

"There is a man who is being a bit too public with his connections to Germany and the Nazi's for my, and many others in my positions liking. We cannot be linked to anything. As I'm sure you understand. But I thought you two, being who you were... might be interested in helping us out."

"Go on." Alfie groans. 

"This man is trying to get in with Osley, and with the people already starting to make noise about him, we'd like to put an end to this so we only have to deal with Osley and not bring the Nazi's into it as well. We don't need Germany involved."

"I'd fuckin' say not." Alfie muses and shifts his weight. 

"So would you be interested in sending a very, very clear message to this man and his supporters here in Britain?"

"How clear of a message?" you give him a smile. 

"Painfully clear."

"Deadly clear?" Alfie grins.

"Painfully, bloody, deadly, no room for misunderstanding clear." Tommy speaks slowly and clearly. "I can give you men to help. I can give you everything you'll need to do it, all the information as to what club he owns and can tell you when his supporters will be there. I will have to give you that information at another time, as our inside men can only work as fast as the information is given. But I thought it suited to give two Jewish forces first shot at it."

"They'll be comin' after the gypsy's too ya know." Alfie says, lowering his chin.

"I am aware of that Alfie." Tommy says, sitting back in his seat. "But I believe they have been more vocal about your people."

He nods.

"So?" Tommy asks

You and Alfie both look at each other. "Wanna kill some fuckin' Nazi's love?" he grins, knowing the answer. 

You turn to Tommy with a wicked smile. "Consider them already dead."


	70. Killer Shangri-Lah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW.  
> Song for the chapter is Killer Shangri-Lah by Pshycotic Beats.  
> Alfie and Gen take revenge on Nazi supporters in Manchester by making it rain blood and bullets upon a conspirators dance hall. They get to indulge in their bloodlust together afterward.

You're in front of a large vanity in a hotel room in northern England. You're getting in one last good scratch to your compressed down hair before having to put on the light colored wig again that Freddie had picked out and sent you. You couldn't tell him what it was for exactly, but you told him it needed to be convincing. And it was. 

You'd been wearing it ever since you'd gotten on the road to Manchester, a place you hadn't been to except for on business where this man's club resided. With Alfie, there was always a high probability no matter where he went he'd be recognized, seeing as his orthodox dress, cane and intimidating face with gingery beard and blue eyes was something hard to miss when all in combination. Add his thick accent in and it was easy to identify him. But you, you weren't as well known. People knew you by name, but not by your face. So you had elected to wear something only a mistress would wear, and a light colored wig to disguise yourself further. While on the phone with Freddie, you'd practice your German and the accent when speaking English with it. It'd been many years since you had to speak it and you had to pretend to be someone else tonight and the espionage was reminding you of your old jobs where you would lie, cheat and steal from old rich men. You didn't do as much murdering back then, but times change. 

Alfie can see on your face you're in a particular zone. Your eyes cat-like and your posture pin straight as you secured your hair down. You were painted like a doll in a red dress that he would've highly protested against you wearing in public if you were, in fact, going as yourself. But you weren't, and as always, he tried to keep that in mind. 

"I 'on't know 'bout you havin' to seduce this monster, Gen." he gruffs out, fully dressed and sitting on the edge of the bed looking at you with his elbows on his knees. 

"It's only a job, darling." you say reassuringly, pinning the large earrings to your ears.

"I know 'at." he says with an annoyed sigh. "But why can't you just get him alone in some other way? Business? Ya already pretendin' to be a fuckin' nazi sympathizer, why not just talk shop with him?" he offers.

"Because it adds more hurt to the final product. I get to watch his face as I pull a knife out on him unexpectedly. Get to see that pompous, lustful look disappear from his eyes and see it replaced with fear and confusion. I want him to suffer before he dies. And I plan to use every weapon I have to do that as much as possible given the circumstances." you answer flatly, adjusting your breasts in the low cut dress. 

He shakes his head, rolling his eyes and looking away. How was he supposed to argue with the sort of darkness you were channeling to do this job. 

"Are you asking because you're jealous?" you question him unexpectedly. "Or is it a matter of principle?"

"I 'on't want his fuckin' hands on ya is what it fuckin' is." he says with a frown, not meeting your reflection as you looked at him in the mirror. 

"His hands will not be on Genevieve and especially not Chanah tonight." you say in a softer voice, rising and moving towards him with your hands out. He watches you move, body shimmering in the dress like the red sea as it sauntered towards him. "Up, Ari." you say, tugging both his hands and making him stand. You put your hands to his cheeks. "They are not touching anything that is truly yours. They will be speaking and touching Lena, yes? I will not be kissing him. This I promise you. I have done this so many times, darling. I enjoy it most when I can get up close and personal. Let me enjoy this beyond a single victory for our people. Let me enjoy this as a criminal like you. I take so few of these jobs nowadays, let me fully immerse myself and everyone will reap the rewards. You'll have a happy girl and a successful mission. What more could a gangster want?" you give him a smile, moving your hands to around his back. 

"Nobody touchin' you is fuckin' what." he grumbles and sighs. 

"Alfie..." you scold.

"I know ya gonna fuckin' do it anyway. I'm just not happy 'bout it." 

"My big stubborn bear." you coo and scratch his back. Do you want to go over the plan again before we leave?"

"Nah." he says shaking his head. "I'm ready when you are." he mutters.

"I'd say you are." you give him a sweet smile but his face doesn't soften. "What's with these muscles?" you asks, thumbs rubbing over his sides and up his chest. "Have you been exercising Alfie?" you say slightly distracted.

"Aye."

"Oh," you say impressed. "For this job?" you ask curiously, your brain telling you to touch your skin to his. 

"I've been at it awhile. Ever since that went down with Niko. Not gonna let someone try 'n fight me for ya or some bollocks like 'at. Gonna make sure I can proper protect ya. Whether you fink you need it or not." his brow is hard and his voice is stern as he speaks of defending you. 

"I'll have to properly observe the hard work later." you give him a little smirk before dragging your hands away from his body. 

"Ya gonna feel it love, I'm gonna be fuckin' feral seein' someone look at ya the way 'is man's gonna and I'm gonna be takin' what's mine after."

"It's always yours." you give him a soft chuckle. "But you're always welcome to remind me."

"That part of it?" he asks with a nod of his chin.

"Hmmm?" you ask with a tilted head, turning back to him after grabbing your purse. 

"This whole... ya bein' seductive thing. You want to come back to me and have me be all revved up and needin' to remind us both of who ya belong to? Do you WANT me to do that? Ya just antagonizin' me this way?"

"No, no, darling." you shake your head. "I just really enjoying seeing fear in a man's eyes before I kill him. That's all." you give him a smile that's so sweet it makes the words even more devilish. 

"You talkin' like 'at not's helpin' matters any." he grunts. 

You walk towards him with a low laugh. "Good." you answer back flatly. "My darkness does for you what your darkness does for me. How lucky we are to have found each other." you give him a brief kiss. "Ani ohevet otcha (I love you), Arioch."

"Ani ohev otach, Chanah." he responds and takes your hand, giving you a squeeze. "And to think you're about to pretend to an antisemite." he huffs out a laugh.

"I am a skilled actress, Ari." you give him a wink. 

"You are skilled in many ways, Chanah. 'N all of 'em leadin' to bein' a pain in my arse." he laughs.   
\------------

You get out of your car, one of the younger non-orthodox boys drives you to the dance hall. You make your way across the darkening and damp street into the warmth and light of the building. Chandeliers hung in a row across the open dance floor which was scattered with people moving to the music. The sound emanated from the slightly raised stage where a band sat, lit up and in matching suits as they performed. Cloth covered tables covered the outer parts of the dance floor, a long bar to one side of the large room and a short set of steps leading up to the kitchens, offices and back hallways. 

It was easy to see where you'd be taking the man to kill him as you made your rounds. A hallway of doors with glass in them, boxy letters reading OFFICE on them with names in script underneath. The wooden hallways smelled thick of cigars and cologne, the smells of food from the kitchen wafting in from time to time as you sauntered about with a flute of champagne in your hand. After feeling out the hallways and backstage with no one giving you any trouble, you make your way back to the main floor to find the men you were searching for. 

Alfie came separately from you, his dress an obvious statement as to who he was. He sees you walking slowly, deliberately to gain attention down the stairs. Your body language open and inviting. He would be allowing himself to drink in your appearance if he knew that every man who's attention you caught wasn't doing the same. You wore a red floor-length dress, arms bare, most of your back and a low cut front with the way it nipped in at your waist left little to wonder about your feminine form. With satin and lace, beaded and sequined your body shined as it moved, the bounce of your breasts distracting from it all. You had a light shawl around you, matching your outfit and Alfie found himself disgruntled at the fact that you were right about not needing a heavy coat for the dance hall. But then again, he'd never been in one and didn't expect the heat from the moving bodies to cause so much humidity in the air. 

The room is loud, his eyes stay alert and hooded, a glass of wine he hasn't touched sits on the bar as he looks over the crowd, doing the same as you, identifying your targets. You can easily notice when the owners of the club, in their expensive three-piece suits that were not made for dancing start to watch Alfie. It gives them away as they whisper and the hierarchy becomes clear as some are told to notify the guards and some stay posted up against a booth in the corner. By the descriptions you were given, it was easy to pick out who was who and your target is acquired. You saunter about the corner of the club where they are, gaining attention, using your heavy accent more loudly than was necessary to bring their attention to it. It seemed to be working, and Alfie grumbled to himself as he watched the men's eyes watch you. 

You pretend to just notice Alfie across the room, bouncing over to him and sliding next to him by the bar. 

"At least your ability to gather the male gaze is going to good use." he says snarkily, as you speak in heavy pauses to assure the bartender is out of earshot, moving as needed when anyone would get near. He motions his hand to the wine on top of the bar. You take it and sip it, looking out over the floor.

"They've made it easy to notice them." you state, leaning closer as he gives you a kiss to the cheek. Making it clear you were at the least mates, but planting that seed that you were his mistress. As opposed to the idea as he was about you seducing the man, you were that opposed to the idea of having to be his mistress. You weren't looking forward to having to hear from people he was cheating on you, drawing gangsters out of the woodwork to try and steal you away. But it was all a set up that needed to be done. You didn't voice your concerns, as you were better at bottling up your grievances than he was. 

"Certainly. Back corner where you were hovering, yeah?' he says, sliding his arm behind you as you stand side by side and look out into the crowd. 

"Mmm Hmm." you nod. "The green vest is the man I'll be taking away." you state and Alfie appreciates the vague way you were discussing your plans. "The navy vest and grey suit is the second, and the all black is the third in line. Those are the three we are specifically supposed to... speak to." you say with a grin. 

"I have to say I fuckin' hate this accent on you." he purses his lips and you chuckle into your wine glass. 

"Good for you then, ja?" you laugh, putting your hand on his chest as if he'd said something funny. "The faster we do this the sooner you no longer have to hear it." you state with a smirk, taking another sip. 

"And the boys they sent away. Two guards, I'm assumin'?"

"Ja." you answer and try not to laugh as he sighs at your German answer. "All in matching suits. Did you see?"

"I did. All the lads looked alike though."

"True. No surprise pale and blonde are popular here." you muse. 

"Speakin' of I also very much prefer you with dark hair." he ways with raised brows and lowering his chin.

"Anything else of any importance you have to say, darling? Because none of that tone is helpful." you roll your head to look up at him. 

He grunts and looks your way. "Once we sound the signal the room should clear. I'll be close enough to the second at least when you get out. So you try to find the third first, then we can get the little lads who're running errands for them. They'll probably be fightin' for 'em so while I'm hanging back, they'll be shootin' if they've got guns so you get the fuck behind somethin' and no bein' fuckin' brave."

"Yes, darling." you say moving in to kiss his cheek. "Love you, Ari. This isn't just about money." you whisper before leaning back and his arm wraps around you. "Remember that."

"I am." he nods, a swift smack to your bum to send you off to hide the genuine affection. 

You look back and giggle and sway back to the floor, you dance a little, caught up in groups of women as you make your way through the crowd, you meet eyes with your main target and give him a smile before heading back to the toilets. You wait for just a moment, fixing your makeup and dress before exiting. He stands at the end of the hallway, and as you move slowly past him, you hear a throat clear. 

"Excuse me, doll." he says in an English accent, you turn with a mysterious expression on your face, moving towards the sandy-haired man with the outstretched hand.

"Ja?" you say with your hands resting together in front of you.

"I've not seen you here before. I'm the owner. I prefer to know the names of woman as gorgeous as you when they come in." he gives a cocky nod and you move in closer.

"Are you always so complimentary with your patrons?" you grin. 

"Only ones that look like you."

"Ah." you nod and give him a welcoming smile. "I am Lena." you say with an outstretched hand. He plants a kiss on top of your gloved hand. 

"And you are not from here are you? I can't help but notice that charming accent."

"I am from Germany, as you can tell." you laugh and smile, swishing your hair. 

"Whereabouts have you come from? You're awfully far from home." his voice lowers, and you feel the underlying predatory tone.

"Berlin." you answer simply.

"And what brings you here?" his eyes narrow.

"Rich men." you give a shrug and closed mouth smile. 

"Ah." he laughs. "And an honest woman to go with this... body." his eyes rake you up and down and you put your hand on your hip to accentuate your shape. 

"Brains too." you nod.

"If you are such a catch, might I ask why you are with that man I saw you by at the bar?"

"He has money." you answer nonchalantly.

"Plenty of men who aren't like him have money."

"Like him? You mean a gangster? I'm certain a mistress can make a good living for herself off of one. They always go for the wife if they want to threaten them. If they could catch that sneaky little Jew. She's rather..." you frown. "Difficult. I've heard."

He hears the way you say Jew and his eyes couldn't lit up any more noticeably. "You do not care that he is Jewish then?"

"We all make sacrifices don't we?" you shrug. 

Why him then if you are not supportive of the Jews?” He asks with genuine interest.

“I have been in London and to the clubs of these powerful men and he took an interest. Their greed leads them to accumulate wealth. I thought I could benefit.”

“Why you?” He asks.

“I have been told his wife also has... large attributes.” You smirk. “Perhaps he is a fan. She is dark-haired though and don’t men usually go for a woman who is not like their wife in the ways they prefer? Get a younger better body and lose the nagging and guilt. Especially from their type.” You knew every stereotype and you ran with it. The man ate it up and you once again felt that disappointment that men used to fill you with at their ineptitude. Give them some tits and tell them what they wanted to hear and they were embarrassingly easy to manipulate and corner.

He stares at the large attributes you speak of. “What if he heard you say this?” He asks with narrowed eyes.

“I do not know how much he would care. We aren’t having some torrid affair. We fuck, he gives me money and jewels. It’s not that deep.” You shake your head.

“But he is a proud Jew.”

“Yes. But does not flaunt it around me. That is for his wife. Not me.” You answer flatly.

“Would you be interested in finding another man of power? Someone... superior?” He uses the langue you’ve read. 

“Someone more like me? You may not be German like my ancestors and I but you seem to share a similar point of view.” You say slowly as you act like you’re trying to feel him out.

“It would seem as if we do.” He gives you a smile that sends a pain across your stomach but you nod and look at him thoughtfully just the same. 

He moves in closer and speaks more quietly. “Would you like to discuss the separation of yourself from such a man? As it should be? Two people like us together instead?”

“I would.” You say as he takes your hand. “I’m sure we could have some very vigorous and deep, deep conversation together.” you blatantly flirt.

Alfie distracts himself by keeping an eye on the other men as you work. Keeping a straight face, pretending now to drink from a high ball glass as his eyes shift around the room, keeping an eye on the two men he was in pursuit of. He sees you move into the man's office, thankful to not see his Genevieve in your body language. You were a different person when you were working, or maybe just different around him now. Had you moved your hips so much when you were first out with him? You'd think he'd be able to recall such a thing. But he had lived in denial for so long. As the door shuts, he swallows hard, taking a deep breath and pretending not to notice it as he knows what's happening behind that door. He could so easily go in and shoot the man in the head himself before he got his hands on you, but then he wouldn't be acting very professional would he? And he was that. It was only that you were the one thing it seemed that made him want to act like a bloody idiot. So instead of fantasizing about murdering the man in the office, as he knew you would do it so well it would be classified as erotic to him, he channels it into a warm and familiar rage. 

\----  
"Tell me schatz." you coo, pushing him into his large leather chair behind his desk and standing between his legs, keeping your hand on his chest. "Mr. Solomons is a rather large man." you smirk. "Do you think you can measure up?" you grin wickedly. "Do you think you can do for me what he does?"

"I can make you forget he ever existed, doll." he gives you a drunken smile, looking at your cleavage pressed together as you leaned over him. 

"And what of money?" you ask, throwing one leg up to his side, pulling your dress up with your hands now. He watched the fabric inch higher and higher, exposing your thighs, you stop it short of your holster you wear high on your hip. 

"What of it? I have more power and can get you anything you want, gorgeous." he says without making eye contact, hands moving down the sides of your breasts and resting on your waist. 

"Irgendetwas? My goodness. Such promises you Englishmen make." you smile and let him pull you into his lap, taking his hands and putting them on your chest as you watch his eyes glaze over, he begins squeezing, showing you nothing that would lead you to believe he would, in fact, make you forget anyone's name. Well, perhaps his name seeing as he was pawing at you like a little boy seeing his first pair of tits. All horny and no tact. It was a small price to pay for the high you would be getting from him in a few moments. "Will you buy me a new dress when you ruin this one?" you laugh.

"I'll buy you a new house to put it in too."

"Oh yes, that is exactly what I want to hear." you purr, griding down on his lap, his nose twitching with a grunt. "What if there is something... more urgent that I want right now?" you whisper into his hear, leaning your chest in his face, rising and lowering your hips over him as you ran your palms over your body and his, keeping his eyes used to your hands moving so he wouldn't notice when you withdrew your dagger. 

"Anything you want." he huffs out, licking his lips, head moving forward to get his mouth on your skin but you pull back and giggle. 

"What if I want you?" you lick the shell of his ear and he shudders.

"You can have it." he groans, hands tight on your hips. 

"Anything?" you grin, moving your hands to his chin, holding his face up to meet yours as you slide out your dagger. 

"Anything." he nods, eyes dazed and lust filled, mouth slack and open. 

"Mmmm." you give one nod, a confident one with a smile he doesn't recognize as threatening. "What if I want revenge?" you whisper, your accent is gone and your blade pressed to his throat. Your smile turns more sinister, your eyes dilating and your words hissed out through a tight jaw as your face looms so close to his your noses almost touch. 

"Re-what?" his eyes blink fast and you see it. That look you had spoken of earlier. The thing that made you go into a life of contract murder. That look of a realization. The switching hands of power. The fear.

You moan and bite your lip looking down at him. "Revenge. For my people and what you and your kind are trying to do to us." you whisper and snake your head around his, playing with your food before you ate it, keeping the blade tight to his skin to keep him from yelling.

"Your people?" he stutters.

"My name is Chanah Lafitte. I've been sent to kill you," you answer coldly. "My men and I are waiting outside your club as we speak. You will be the first tonight. Then all my men will descend and kill all of yours. If you thought you hated us before, you will hate us more for what we will do to you in retaliation." you spit out. 

"You can't kill all of us." he says defiantly as you press the blade into his throat, a quick light slice to scare him, make him think it was the final blow. 

"And you can't kill all of us." your eyes are black, mouth salivating at the energy in the air, the feel of him stiff and terrified underneath you. You finish him for real this time. Holding your legs down tight, keeping him in his chair as the blood pours and spurts. You put the dagger Alfie gave you back into your holster, holding his face, blood running down your dress and hands as he fades. You speak to him in Hebrew. You tell him of your resilence, how they were not the first to try to kill you and they would not be the last and they would not succeed in wiping you out. The blood is warm and thick as it slows, he was gone, no longer a force only remnants running out into the river that had soaked you both. 

You stand, admiring your work, feeling a jolt of energy, the rush of a kill and the promise of more in just moments. Knowing as you walked out you held the power to start a retaliation for something bigger than yourself. You stand with your hand on the doorknob and give him one last look back. Something was missing. You hum in thought, walking back over to him, drumming your nails on his desk. 

"It should be known what you died for." you mutter, tilting your head and withdrawing your dagger again.   
\--------  
Alfie sees the door to the office opening and as soon as he registers it is your hand, he starts to move to a back hallway, making sure no one gets out that he wants to keep in. A hush falls over the room, the band slows and stops, a chord of broken notes puffed out as the room turns and looks at you, covered in blood and standing on the staircase that separated the dance floor from the higher levels that lead to the kitchen and offices. You move slowly, no one knowing what to expect from a woman covered in blood who looked so calm. You lean one arm against the large column at the side of the stairs. You see Alfie posted up and you catch the other two men you were supposed to take out nestled in a booth with girls under their arms. They'd waited for their boss, thinking he was going back for a quick fuck and would be coming back to spread his good luck but they got you instead. 

You pull your favorite snubnose from your tits, a hiding place you preferred for concealing anything and shoot it into the ceiling in one swift, smooth movement. You move quickly, two shots off to the men in the booth, practically gift wrapped in their enclosed space fast. You can tell the innocent from the guilty in seconds. Women screaming and running to the exits, and you let them. Men protecting them as they usher them out with wild, wide eyes. The guilty pull their guns, the henchmen not sure of what to make of a woman behaving such a way. As soon as the crowd flees like rats, your men rush in from the back behind you with Tommy guns. 

"This can be over quickly. Or we can do this the hard way." you announce loudly, stalking over to where the booth of interest was on the level below you. Then men watching you, hands in their jackets and their dates no where in sight. "We were after only those two men. We have not been sent to retrieve anyone else. You boys can all go home tonight to your mum's, your wives and families if you choose to not fight. We only want these two. The choice is yours." you say, standing next to a large column for quick cover. "You can hold onto your loyalty, but it will only send you to your graves. So what will it be? Homes or graves?" you say, holding your gun out the to the crowd, some flee immediately and you let them go. A handful stays and holds their ground. "We have our answer, boys." you say, firing off a shot and then ducking behind a large column for cover. 

The guns reign down bullets, their so loud your ears ring from standing so close, the shells bounce off the ground in front of you as you keep your head on a swivel, waiting for the bullets to run out. And eventually, they do. The smart ones had ran, so only the bold and reckless remained. So the third wash of blood begins for the night. You put your gun in the holster, Alfie's dagger in one hand, a brass knuckle handled one in your dominant one as you jump over the barrier and onto the dance floor to join in the fight. You see Alfie, with his double brass fists and hard brow, knocking down boys as he charges forward and keeps them from running. They'd made their choice and now he was there to let them know what a poor one it was. You make your way towards each other, wanting to keep one another close for protection. You sync without thought, you taking the high ground on the bar, kicking glass and breaking bottles as he uses stools across men's back to break them down to the floor. Someone grabs your ankle, knocking you down and dragging you behind the bar.

"GENNY!" you hear shouted, Alfie's cane landing within your reach as you use it to push the man off of you and choke him out, pressing it against his neck until it buckled. You pop back up, jumping over the bar as he turns for only a second to see that you're alright and it's just enough for the young lad to get a hit into Alfie's jaw and make him stumble.

"Fuckin' 'ell." he shouts, nostrils flared and feet planted firmly on the ground again. He charges, getting the man in a headlock and choking him. You move over to him, he shoves him towards you as he sees your hands are both weaponized again as you give him a swift set of kicks to the face, nasty cracks from your steel heels ricochet inside the man's head as everything goes dark, his face and neck cut and sliced as he bleeds onto the floor. 

The ring you gifted Alfie continues to do damage as promised. You stand back to back and take on another wave of rebounded men. You get to fight together, keeping each other's backs. He aims for faces and you finishing them off as he makes them hit the ground. It's a dance that you'd never done so well with anyone else before. You read each other without trying, knew each other's weakness and strengths. It was an art piece to watch. You only wish you could've seen it unfold from the outside. As being a part of the art installation only gave you a limited view. But it made your blood surge and heart soar in a new way for him. He complimented you so well. And in every situation, you'd gotten in together thus far. You made music together and the only instruments were your bodies and weapons and you never wanted to stop performing. You watch him taunt, telling the last of the men left to get on with it as he motions for them to come closer with his fingers. 

"Back's clear. We out?" the leader of the men Tommy sent shouts.

Your eyes find Alfie's and you share a nod, finding no one else standing. 

"Yeah, lads. Get on." he shouts. You move back to retrieve his cane, knocking over the alcohol as you do so, Alfie finds his hat, placing it back as he reaches out for your hand. You toss a match into the back of the bar and watch it go up. He drags you out the side door and before you know it you're in the back seat of the car as it's speeding away down alleyway's just wide enough to hide and make a secret escape from the city. It had all gone according to plan. 

You sit and breathe heavily. Both panting, him taking off his coat and hat, you shaking your hair out from your wig. 

"Ya injured love?" he asks, reaching out and grabbing your wrist, pulling you closer and taking your cheek into his hand without permission. A pure dominant and protective, fluid movement that made your pulse race all over again. 

"No." you whisper out breathily, gulping noisily. "Are you?"

"Nah." he grunts and shakes his head as you place your hands on his torso to check. 

You share a few breaths, hands on each other before meeting eyes. They were dark and large, faces flushed and scratched. 

"You were fuckin' brilliant out there, love." he huffs out.

"You were so bloody dominating I could barely keep my eyes on anything else." you admit, chest heaving forward, taking his face into your still sticky hands, letting your adrenaline and bloodlust fuel your actions. 

"You fuckin' walkin' out of that office, drippin' in his blood. You are beyond compare when you are violent." he growls out from gritted teeth as you move to straddle his lap. He doesn't even hesitate, letting the dark part of his brain act for him, he pulls you to his lips. A biting and harsh kiss sets you both off. You groan and yank his head back by his hair, licking the sweat from his neck, your hand popping the buttons off his shirt as you yank it apart, starving to get your hands on him. You grind against him, finding him to be, no surprise, hard just as you were wet. His hands claw up your thighs past your weapons, lifting your skirt to your waist as he rips the crotch of your pants, hand reaching to free himself from the confines of his own. 

"I fucking need you, Alfie. Fuck me. Right now." you pant with extended tongues in each other's mouths. Nothing graceful about how your bodies worked together now. Only pure lust and violence left to burn off. 

It's fast and hard, his feet planted on the floor of the car, pumping into you as you hit down on him as hard and fast as you can. You lick at each other faces and necks and chests, leaving dark marks as you bite and suck hard, moaning as you take turns pulling the other's hair and moving their head as you want them. Hard slaps and pinches to your arse, to his shoulders and chest as you ride out the high together. You growl and gnash as you both come, diving back into a deep kiss that grounds you both. 

"Sorry, mate." he finally gruffs out after clearing his throat to the driver.

"Didn't see a thing." the wise man answers even though you can both hear the laughter in his voice. You both keep kissing, hands much softer now, in each others hair and roaming with no destination across your bodies as you begin to laugh, it grew to break your kiss as your foreheads press together, leading to a well earned and exhausted sigh.

\----------

Alfie sits in his office, reading the paper, a grin as he reads the report on the incident. 

"You hear 'bout the men in Manchester?" he chuckles.

"In the paper? Yeah." he nods. He didn't know about the job, but he had assumed Alfie might have something to do with it even if he hadn't done it himself. "Never heard of anyone doin' that to anyone before." he shakes his head.

"Do what, mate?" Alfie asks.

"Finish the article." he says with a humorous smile before leaving the office.

"Well fuck me." Alfie whispers, a smirk on his face. "My fuckin' brilliant little bird. Fuckin' ruthless." he growls in excitement. 

\------

He walks through your bedroom door as you sit on your couch, braiding your hair as you'd just gotten out of the bath. 

"Oh hell darling!" you chirp cheerfully. "You're here early!" you say with a big beautiful smile that warms him. But he certainly didn't need any warming right now. He was already red hot for you. 

"Ya read the paper today?" he says in a deep tone. You can feel the power coming off him as he shuts the door and locks it behind him. 

"No." you shake your head. "I slept in and didn't even eat breakfast, I haven't seen it." you voice now more cautious as you watch his eyes dark under a heavy brow, taking his hat off, then his jacket, his fingers beginning to work on his buttons. 

"That man from Manchester. That was you that left him like that wunnit?" he grins, a smile that you know is full of pride blooms across his face, but it's intentions are dark and you feel a thrill run up your spine. 

"Like what?" you smirk, your fingers loosening up the neck of your dressing gown to show him nothing was under it. 

"You carved him up dinnit ya?" he nods slowly, taking the suspenders off his shoulders as he walks slowly towards you, pulling his shirt out of his trousers. 

"Oh that?" you giggle and bite your lip. 

"Yeah fuckin' that." he nods, taking his shirt off and throwing it to the side, kicking off his boots. "Ya carvin' Stars of David into Nazi's foreheads are ya love?"

"I am." you purr up at him, his hands now on the buttons of his trousers. 

"My sweet little Chanah. Tsk tsk tsk." he shakes his head and growls as you untie your robe and he stands before you naked. "Brilliant work like 'at's gotta be rewarded dunnit?" he gives you a cocky nod and you blush. 

You let your dressing gown fall off your shoulders, standing before him and practically drooling as he stood so confident, giving you a damning look of dominance but his eyes only held good news for you. "If you will be doing the rewarding Ari... yes." you nod and give him a cheeky grin.

"I'm gonna be fuckin' praisin' this body for the fuckin' superb work 'is brain does, pet. I'm gonna start at that cunt of yours and eat me way to ya fuckin' brain so I can show ya how much I fuckin' love how it works." he growls and picks you up and you squeal with delight. 

"Oh did you like it Ari dear?" you giggle. "I thought you might."

"Ya do it for me?" he asks, slapping your bum as he carried you to the bed. 

"Might've." you shrug. "Might've done it for me as well." your voice dips lower and you hum contently as his hand paws away at your body. 

"I would say what I'm gonna do to ya is all for you love, but we'd both know 'at was a lie. I fuckin' love doin' 'is to ya." he gruffs and bites your hip before tossing you onto the bed and pouncing at you as you giggle and squeal as he rewards your misbehavior.


	71. Shotgun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter song is Shotgun by Spoon.  
> Gen has some problematic dreams, George decides to make a move and Alfie is there to help pick up the pieces as Gen loses herself in her anxieties.

 

You sit at the head of the table in your ornate dining room, the morning sun streaming in through the windows. Your posture slumps after a strong yawn as you pick through your bowl of berries and cream. You didn’t want something sweet but the eggs were also not hitting the spot. You pick at the pork-free classic English breakfast in front of you, the toast being the only thing you didn’t want to spit back out.

“What’s wrong with you?” Claire demands, finally settling into a seat after seeing her move about the house all morning.

“Not sleeping well.” You sigh, pushing around the beans on your plate.

“Any reason?” She says with a casual tone but you shift your eyes over to her anyway.

“Dreams.” You answer flatly.

“Are dreams responsible for you being so picky with your food as well?”

“I’m tired and nothing sounds good.” You mutter childishly.

“Are These dreams something I should be informed of?”

You shrug. “They’re abstract.” You groan and push away the plate. “I’m trapped in darkness. There are these sets of glowing eyes moving around and I can’t tell anything about them. I hear men’s voices, lots of different ones, but the eyes aren't human eyes. It feels like something is wrong, but I don’t know what. I keep getting moved around but I can’t feel anything or see anything. Then I hear Alfie's voice and it stops.”

“What does he say?”

“It changes. Sometimes it’s gibberish, sometimes my name.” You shrug. “Then I’m suddenly back at home after feeling like I’m falling and getting dizzy. He’s in bed with me and telling me it’s okay. He’s there. Nothing bad is going to happen to us as long as he’s there. That’s what he keeps saying. Sometimes in Hebrew, sometimes not.”

“A dream within a dream?”

“So it would seem.”

“Interesting.” She nods and hums. “Reoccurring?”

“Yes. I always wake up nauseous and panting like I’ve been running. And I feel like hell the next day. But I have had a lovely dream about being in France with Altar though. Sitting in the lavender fields from my childhood, he comes and picks me up and spins me until I’m dizzy and laughing and when I open my eyes he’s turned into Alfie.” You give a content smile. “That one is rather nice though. Doesn’t keep me from sleep.” You shake your head.

“Does sound nice. Especially in comparison to the others. But it’s nice Alfie seems to be a protective figure in them.”

“He’s in my dreams a lot.”

“Good and bad?”

“Yes, some are just common nonsense. Some are sexual. Some are tragic.”

“Tragic?”

“Yes ones where I die or he dies.” You frown.

“And those aren’t prophetic you think?”

“No, the prophetic ones feel different usually. I don’t fade in and out of them they come hard and wake me up after. They don’t feel... dreamy like dreams do.”

“You must be tired.” She chuckles. “Dreamy like dreams is entirely lazy and beneath you.” She pats your hand.

“Well, I am tired, Claire. I’m tired and thus irritable and it makes me want to act like a child and pout. I hate it."

“You aren’t the only one.” She laughs.  
————  
You go to bed early and sleep hard that night. A dreamless sleep. Something you’re extremely grateful for.

The sound of your door opening wakes you. You stir only slightly, hearing boots on the floor and murmuring.

“Alfie love? I wasn’t expecting you until morning.” You say with a yawn, rubbing your eyes. But when the footsteps stop and you move your hand from your face it’s clear the silhouette it isn’t Alfies.

“Not your Solomons, love.” The man's voice says, a dark laugh coming from him as he gets closer. You move to reach for the dagger under your pillow that you keep when Alfie isn’t there. But he moves too quickly for you in your tired and sleepy state. He holds you down, mouth over your hand as you struggle against him, resting his weight on his knees on your body. “I’m not here to kill you Genevieve. I’m here to serve as a warning. George wants to let you know he has people that can get to you. That's all. Has people that can get to your little Jew beau. He doesn’t want to have to hurt you.” he pauses as you still and listen to him, your hand trying to find the dagger that’s been displaced in the struggle. “I'm guessing he thought I was a better man than I am. Sending me to test how easy it would be to get to you. Which it was not.” He adds as if he was impressed. “And I think I deserve a little reward for all my hard work. What do you think? I don’t think George would care if I had a little fun. Not with how he spoke of you. Don't think you'd mind either.” his voice is low and breathy and you growl, thrashing and kicking against him as you felt his clammy hand touch your skin. “So odd he speaks of you so poorly but doesn’t want you hurt. Makes no sense to me. Seems like you could take a bit of abuse. Fiesty thing.” He grunts out as your retort throws him off balance, giving you a chance to bite his hand and you do not hold back. The metallic tang makes you feral, feeling it drip down your chin as you keep hold like a trained dog and rip his flesh. He responds in anger, knocking you sideways, but you see the glint of the dagger and reach for it, taking it and stabbing it blindly at him.

You black out from rage. The next thing you know you’re being held back, covered in blood, the dagger still in your hand as you take in the scene in front of you. You’d sawed the man's head off, blood everywhere on your carpet and bed. He was covered in deep gouges, a particularly large cluster between his legs. His head had been thrown against a wall, a splatter on the stone and filigree that didn’t look that out of place among the black and red velvet and paintings of violence.

“ARE YOU OKAY?!” You finally register from Claire as she shakes your shoulders. She sees you blink rapidly, face moving from stone to angry and she knows you’re back. “What the fuck happened here?!”

“He said George sent him.” You spit out and Aggie gasps, her hand to her mouth. She never thought the man would try to actually harm you in any way. “He said he wasn’t going to hurt me. Then he said he was going to...” your nostrils flare and you growl to push back the nausea the thought sends your way.

“I get it. I get it.” Claire says. “Can we... get this cleaned up?” She asks of one of the guards that had been summoned when the noises of two animals fighting were heard.

“No.” You demand through gritted teeth. “Take his fucking head and put it in a box and mail it to my father.” You state clearly. The boy blinks with wide eyes at the request.

“Genevieve perhaps when you've had time to-“

“DO IT!” You shout, rage burning through your veins. He didn’t want to hurt you? Only scare you? Well, you could certainly scare him. You knock Claire back and move to your desk, the blood on your hands all over the paper and pen you withdrew from the drawer, slamming them down with force into the desktop.

“If you think you can threaten me. You are wrong. If you think you can threaten Alfie Solomons. You are the stupidest man in existence. If I so much as hear from you again. If I am approached by anyone, given anything from you I promise the next head cut off will be yours. I will reign down hell on you and anyone that supports you. I will tell everyone you sent a man to threaten and rape your own daughter for practicing a religion that was hidden from her that she was blessed with through blood. I will send names out of every man you ever took their word over mine. I will scream it to the ends of the earth what a monster you are. I have witnesses now. I have proof and you will have nothing left once I am done with you. Not even your fucking head.”

You throw the pen across the room in your anger and scream again. The emotions not subsiding. “Send that with the head.” You snarl at Claire as you storm out of the room. She hears your screams traveling through the hallways, a door slamming before they go silent.

“You heard her.” She sighs, rubbing the bridge of her nose.

“I can’t believe he’d do this.” Aggie says, face still pale with shock.

“We'll have to wait for her to cool before we find out exactly what happened.” Claire tries to remain diplomatic and level headed. That was her role after all.

“We should call Mr. Solomons.” Aggie says quietly. “He would want to know.”

Claire nods, looking at the doorway you’d ran out of. “Yeah. It’ll take him to snap her out of this.”

“The poor thing.” Aggie's voice full of pity for you. As was her way. “Let’s get this cleaned up as quickly as we can. The sooner there’s no evidence to better. We need to make it look like this never happened.”

“And call all the guards. I’ll interview more this week. And we’ll need guns. Everyone will have a gun now.” She groans. She hated guns but knew they were necessary at this point.

“I don’t know how he got in.” The boy picking up the man’s body says.

“I figure come morning we will find out.” She says with an indifferent face. “Do as I said. Do a head check. Get times and locations from all the men on guard right now.” She gives him a stern nod.

“Yes ma’am.” He says with an apologetic look.

“I’ll go check on her and call Alfie.” Claire mumbles, following the sounds of your screams. She sees maids scurrying away from the garden.

“What’s happened?!” They all ask, clutching their dressing gowns together.

“There’s been an intruder. The situation is over now but she’s very... angry about it.” She grits out the last words. “Tell the other girls to go back to bed and lock their doors. Nothing we can do right now.” She leaves them and walks out over the stone steps where you’re holding a pipe and knocking it against a stone statue as you screamed wordlessly. “Genevieve I’m going to call Alfie.” She announces to deaf ears. Seeing no reaction let her know you were gone yet again.  
\---  
“Alfie?”

“What fuckin' time is it? What’s happened?” He gruffs out, brow low as he stumbled his way to the telephone in the dark.

“It’s Genevieve.”

She hears an audible breath and his tone totally changes. “What’s happened?” he demands

“There was an intruder. Physically she’s fine but...”

“BUT?!” He shouts.

“She won’t stop screaming in anger. She’s... you should come over. I think you’re the only hope at getting through to her. She won’t even respond to me.”

“But she’s okay?”

“I don’t believe she’s hurt no.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I fuckin' can.” He answers exasperatedly.  
———  
He walks into the scene. There are guards that greet him with apologetic nods as he walks through the door. Not a good sign, he thought. He stands in the lobby, Aggie finding him first, carrying bedsheets covered in blood and his eyes widen.

"Not her blood, dear." she answers, with a sympathetic smile. She knew what he would be worrying about. "We're trying to clean up the scene and secure the house. The chaos should die down shortly. She's outside." she nods and resituates the sheets in her arms. "Just follow the screaming." she shakes her head and sighs as she trots off down the hall.

His brow is low, taking in the scene with unfriendly eyes, wanting someone to blame but not being able to find it just yet. He walks further into the house and hears loud metallic thuds. Something hitting against stone as he follows the sound and soon he hears you and your noises of outrage.

You've taken a lead pipe, he's assuming from the greenhouse that was almost finished and attacking a statue in your garden. You weren't making much progress but he highly doubted your motive was to rid the pedestal of the statue. You're covered in blood and sweat, your dressing gown loose and moving about and flashing him bits of skin and he wishes he could take the image in without the dark overtones that were in the air.

"Gen?" he says tentatively, walking down the steps, keeping his eyes on you. You grunt and growl and shout as you lift the pipe over and over again, using your entire body to knock it against the already armless Venus statue. "Genny bee?" he offers in a sweet tone, not sure how to approach you without getting hit himself. You hadn't even given him a reason to think you'd heard him at all. "GENEVIEVE!" he says loudly but not threateningly. "It's your Alfie, love. Can ya stop tryin to take off the poor lass's legs as well, it's already been through enough innit?" he gets closer, taking cautious steps back as your swings slow but do not stop. "Can ya talk to me and keep swingin' at least? I'd like to know you're alright."

"I'M NOT ALL BLOODY RIGHT!" you shout, your energy back again as the rage starts to turn to pain.

"Are you hurt? They told me you weren't." he steps closer, he sees the strain in your arms as they shake and your chest heaves.

"Not my body," you answer as you let the pipe hit the ground, tears starting to well up in your eyes. "Although he tried." you spit out, picking the pipe up again and giving a weaker, less controlled hit to the statue.

"You wanna tell me? You wanna hand over the weapon so I can get near you love? I'd like to be able to comfort you somehow." he admits, coming up on your side.

"You don't want to know." you choke out, lip trembling but brow hard and eyes still furious. You give the statue another exhausted wack.

"Can we stop hittin' the statue, you're gonna be hurt if you keep doin' that." he says in an authoritative voice.

"If I stop I have to think. I don't want to think." you say with a break in your voice and he frowns, hearing the underlying hurt now.

"Then let me take care of you, love. Let me do the thinkin' for ya for a bit." he says, his hand reaching out to touch yours that held the pipe as its end rested on the ground.

Your head snaps over to it, you flinch only slightly, mainly from the instinct to lash out at anything in the moment of heightened emotion. As he takes it from your bloody and now you see, injured hand, he tosses it out of reach and as he begins to pull you towards him you feel your mood shift fully, a sob rising from your chest as he pulls you against his.

"There, there, love. Let it out." he shushes and holds you, his hand on your head as he kisses your hair. "I'm here love. Ain't nothin' gonna get ya as long as I'm here, eh?" he says, rubbing your back and he feels you jump. "Genevieve, pet, are you alright? You sure you're not hurt?" he pulls you back and holds your cheek, seeing the dried blood around your mouth and down your neck, wondering what the hell had happened.

You stare at him with fear in your eyes and he's concerned you'd taken a knock to the head with your mood swings. You were scared because he was saying what he had in your dream. "No. I'm not." you shake your head, face wet with tears.

"Now, now, my love." he coos, pulling you back in. "You want to get a bath? Get all this off of ya? Start new? It'll help ya process it. I know your muscles must be achin' from all this."

They were, and he was right. "Can you hold me for a bit?" you ask, feeling terribly small. Exhaustion hitting you hard again.

"Sweet little Chanah." he whispers, kissing your head, gathering your wild mane of hair and pulling the shoulders of your satin dressing gown back up. "Of course. Anything you want, love. You want me to carry you back in?" he asks, looking down at your tired but somehow innocent looking face. You looked like a helpless victim and even though he knew you were far from it, he felt a surge of protectiveness over you.

"Please." you say, giving over to the sadness that washed over you with tiredness.

He picks you up and cradles you like a child, you wrap your arms around his neck and bury your face in his jacket and breathe.

"How in the hell do you do it?" Claire says in disbelief, walking out of your bedroom with buckets of red water.

"What?" he asks, readjusting his hold on you and you grunt in response, paying no mind to Claire but focusing on the way he smelled as it calmed you.

"Calm her down like that. She tried to take my head off." she frowns.

"Lucky I suppose." he purses his lips together. "Can we go in? I'm gonna get her in the bath."

"Yeah." she nods. "It's all cleaned up." she steps out of the way and he moves past the girls scrubbing the floors. They pay him no mind as he sets you on a bench in your bathroom.

"I'm gonna take my stuff off and I'll be right back. I'll just be outside. That alright?" he asks, holding your chin up to him and nodding.

He moves into the bedroom. "What's the damage?" he asks after closing the bathroom door behind him, taking his hat and coat off.

"Take a look in the box and see." one maid says with high brows and a mixture of surprise and annoyance on her face.

"Hmph?" he grunts, moving over to your desk. "He opens the top, seeing the head inside and nods and sighs. "Yeah," he says to no one in particular. "That checks out dunnit?" he shrugs off his suspenders and sets his shoes by the bed down to his shirt and trousers now. "Alright love." he says, clapping his hands together and moving to the tub and turning it on. "How ya want to go 'bout it? Want me in with ya? Want me outside the room? What ya need, little one?" he says, hoisting you up and moving you over by the toilet, ready to take

"I need this night to be over. I need some fucking rest." you groan, having flashes of the surprise attack come again before your eyes. You moan and rub your eyes.

"We can do just 'at after a good bath. Ya need to relax, ya shakin' like a leaf." he says, holding your hands.

"I don't feel well." you say with a contorted face.

"I'd say not. Gettin' attacked in ya own home. No one handles that well. Especially not someone that keeps a house as well as you." he says with pride for your measures of safety. He wasn't sure how a man had gotten in, but then again, he hadn't been sure how a bomb got in his house so he tries not to think about it too much. He wants to focus on you.

"No I mean..." you feel your stomach lurch again. "I'm going to be sick." you say with a deep breath, turning towards the toilet and standing with one hand on the wall.

"Fuckin' 'ell love. What happened? Ya have such a capacity for violence ususally." he says with concern, pulling your hair back in anticipation.

"I haven't been sleeping." you reply with closed eyes, shaking your head, making you dizzy. "I'm exhausted and then this and he..." you remember him on top of you and the wave of nausea hits, you let yourself drop to your knees and Alfie frowns, rubbing your back.

"Ya don't gotta talk about it if it's makin' ya ill." he says obviously.

"I do. You need to know." you groan and lean forward, feeling it coming on again.

"Worry 'bout it in the bath. Just get the evil out right now." he sees your face contort again as you get sick into the toilet. You can hear him sigh, reaching and grabbing a washcloth from the sink.

"I haven't even eaten anything, how do I have anything to-" you throw up again and it burns, bile that brings a pounding of your head.

"Shush. It happens love. It's shock. I saw it plenty in the war. Just let it pass. You'll be fine. Don't fight it." he instructs, as you gag and take the cloth from him, sitting back on your heels.

"I feel like hell." you mumble, holding the cloth to your face. It smells of lavender and you find it comforting. "Can you put some flower in the bath, darling?" you say with closed eyes, your hand to your forehead.

"Course." he answers, rising and turning off the tub, breaking up the stalk of lavender from the plant that still thrived in the window he'd gotten you so long ago.

"Help me in." you say quietly, dropping the dressing gown as he helps every limb into the tub, sitting you down slowly like he had when you were injured before. You remember how caring he was last time and it calmed you. "You can get in as well." you say, blinking up at him, your face now slack and less hurt as you wipe it with the cloth he'd handed you. The warm water feels amazing, the cold night air had tightened your muscles, the shock had frozen them in a tense hold and now you were left trying to process. Your least favorite part of recovery.

He slinks in behind you, knowing it's what you'd want. Without a word he washes you, pouring water down your hair, the flowers and oils he put in helping conceal the pink color from the blood.

"Thank you." you whisper, settling back against him. He wraps his arms around you as you rest between his legs. "This helps." you nod, snuggling into him, holding his forearms as they wrapped around you. "Having you here." your voice is weak and breathy.

"You should get used to it." he states and you blink your eyes open and lean to look up at him.

"Hmmm?" you ask with tired eyes.

"I'm gonna move back in." he says with a stern nod.

Your lip pouts in thought, looking away from him for a moment. You hadn't expected it. But it did make perfect sense.

"I want to." he reaffirms. "Is that alright with you? I'd like to be here for you. To protect you. I should've already done it. I just..." he shrugs and sighs. "I've just been worried about everfin' else I just thought it might be able to wait until after the wedding."

"An attempt to stay traditional." you smile up at him.

"I know what we are doesn't mesh well with the customs but I wanted to be as right as reason would allow for you, Chanah." he says with guilt in his voice.

The way he says your name soothes you. "Ari, love." you say softly, face nuzzling into his chest. "Keep your house for the week of separation. That we can do." you nod. "Don't worry about the time up until then," you say with a soft smile. "We aren't traditional. You are right." you nod again. "We want to be together. So we should I believe. I would like to have you in my bed every night." you hum happily. "I would love to see you off to work in the morning." you smile wider. "Make you breakfast like I did at your place."

"Sounds like a dream, love." he says supportively. "I'm stayin' tonight. Well, what's left of it. Tomorrow I'll get my things brought over, yeah?"

"Yes." you nod. "And about tonight?"

"Don't make yourself sick again, pet." he says, stroking back your wet hair with his hand, kissing your head.

"I need to tell you. Perhaps talking will help." you shrug. "It will make you so angry this tub will boil from your red hot temper." you warn, holding his hand in yours.

"I had assumed as much." he sighs.

You tell him everything, the suggestion of defiling you, how George had sent him but said he didn't want to hurt you. Which meant a lot of things. You show him the letter as he gathers a sleeping gown for you and puts it on you. The room now clean and clear, the fire bright and roaring, clean sheets and his arms tight around you let you fall into a restful sleep. So restful he's able to pull himself away from you for a moment to use the phone.

"Yeah, she's fine Ollie." he says dismissively. "But I need you to get some boys together and do some surveillance for me. I want you to go up north to her fathers, George Greene. Make sure ya don't follow her brother of the same name." he states harshly as the mistake would not be made twice. "I want a watch on this man. I want names of who he meets, who comes and goes from his house, I want constant monitoring of him. I want the boys armed and ready to go if I ever say so. She may think he'll stop after this but I'm not takin' the fuckin' chance." he growls.

He comes back to bed, you mewling only slightly as he pulls you back into his chest, his face in your braided hair, his limbs wrapped in yours, feeling so defensive and protective over you. He'd never seen you get sick over something like this before, but then again, he believes he understood why it did. It wasn't just violence. It was the personal touch to it, the threats he'd made, the underlying hurt and betrayal you still felt from your father. He felt guilty for not being there, although he knew there was no use for such a feeling. He would be there now. Every night he'd be there with you and he wouldn't let anyone touch you again.

\-----  
The feelings of possessiveness always follow him into his dreams and into the morning with you in his bed. He wakes to find the bed empty next to him, seeing the bedroom door open. He doesn't assume the worst, he knew everyone was on high alert. He pads through the halls, pajamas on that you'd bought for him and kept at your place, same as he had done for you at his. So when a shirtless, sleepy-eyed Alfie walks into the kitchen, following the smell you turn and smile. You got to do this every day if you wanted. It felt so perfectly domestic. Something you'd missed out on growing up. Making him breakfast felt so intimate for you. You'd never really cooked for anyone else before and with the Rabbi's instruction you'd been cooking every chance you got. You were trying to learn new skills that your upbringing had passed over in teaching, wanting to expand your abilities and learn how to be someone more nurturing. Someone who could take care of a family herself. You wanted to be a strong matriarch. A pillar for a family who made a house a home through her actions and words. And Alfie soon picked up on this.

Most mornings you would be up before him, as he had the habit of coming home late. But you didn't mind so much, you got him in your bed every night and in your kitchen every morning and that's what truly made you happy nowadays.

"Mornin, love." he grumbles, a kiss to your head as he pats your shoulders from behind as you watch over the stove.

"Good morning, darling." you coo, watching him shuffle over to the small table in the kitchen.

"What's in the diary for today?" he asks, pulling the paper over towards him.

"Nothing for me. Ollie said you had business meetings today."

"Nothing for you?" he asks, trying not to sound scolding. Ever since the break-in you'd not really left the house much. He didn't want to push you at first, but it was starting to worry him. You seemed happy, but you kept having Claire handle everything and he wasn't sure what to make of it.

"Just seeing to the greenhouse. Poor Essie isn't doing too well I'm afraid. I'll be spending some time with her in the barn." you say in a more sad tone, accepting the long relationship between you and your childhood horse would be coming to its natural conclusion soon.

"You've been around the house so much lately, love." he says, beginning to stand, moving to rest his hands on your hips. "Wouldn't you like to get out a bit?" he asks with a kind tone, putting your hair behind your ears as you turn to him.

"I've been working here." you shrug.

"What about doin' somefin 'ats not work." he suggests.

"Like what?" you say with an unsure face.

"What if I take ya out? How long's it been since I went out and proper courted you eh? You wanna make me sit through a show? I'll watch somefin' I hate." he chuckles and gives you a charming smile.

"Oh, I don't know. No need to waste money on it." you shake your head and turn back around.

He blinks and stares. "Since when do you care about wastin' money?" his voice cracks as it shakes off sleep.

"Since I've been thinking of being a wife and mother." you say with a straight posture, more confidence in your voice.

He stands in silence with narrowed eyes, his mind putting together your recent actions. "Me movin' in with ya make ya fink 'bout it more?" he asks, resting his face near yours.

"Yes. That and my lessons with Rabbi Gold. We've been discussing the role of women. Family dynamics and what is expected of us when we become married and with children."

"Why are ya jumpin' the gun on all 'at?"

"I didn't think I was." you say with a light twist to your words.

"Well..." he begins, pressing his nose into your shoulder. "What if as your husband I want you to spend some money on somefin', yeah? Want my pretty little Chanah to get all dolled up like I know she likes. Want to take her out and show her a good time. Make her happy. Have ya do somefin' besides make me tea." he chuckles.

"It has been awhile." you say, he feels the sigh leave your body.

"It has. You don't need to get so caught up in your lessons, love. Ya know you get too obsessive 'bout it and it makes you a mess. I want ya happy, relaxed, doin' ya hobbies 'n that like you used to. Don't worry 'bout me too much love. And I'm finkin' 'bout the future enough for the both of us. You do ya lessons and keep practicin' and don't you worry that pretty little head of yours about money. If you need to worry about anything I'll let you know eh? We're fine. Business is fine. No reason you can't go and have a nice night out."

"Does always lead to a nicer night in." you smile and he gives you a cheeky growl with a noisy kiss to your head.

"'Ats my girl." he pats your bum. "Don't go loosin' yourself Gen. Ya both Chanah and Genevieve. I fell in love with Genny bee first, eh? And Chanah kept me around. Put me in my place dinnit she?" he gives your waist a squeeze. "Don't need to kill off one for the other. Especially not for me. Who the fuck am I? Fuckin' nobody." he laughs and pulls away.

"You are someone, darling. You're a very important someone. And I will keep your words in mind. You know how I get." you shake your head.

"That I do." he nods supportively.

"I've never been a nervous person. And all this makes me so nervous and I don't know how to handle it so I go overboard."

"It is in your nature to do such a thing." his voice warm but teasing.

"It means so much to me. Having been denied it for so long. I'm not used to feeling out of my element. And I want to be the best wife and mother and girlfriend and businesswoman I can and it's all..." you sigh and let your shoulders slump, feeling your words as they rushed out, seeing what your problem had been. You'd been so focused on the house, running it, making it perfect that you'd neglected yourself.

"Ya gonna run yourself ragged if ya keep that up."

"Yes." you nod, plating your breakfast. "You're right, darling."

"Mmmm." he hums, pulling you over by your wrist after you set down your plate.

"What?" you giggle, him pulling you fully into his lap, looking up at you with a cheeky smile.

"Say it again love."

You roll your eyes and laugh. "Such a wanker." you giggle and he pinches your bum.

"Indulge an old man, love." he grins.

"You're right, darling." you say with a kiss to his lips. "I forget you are an intuitive beast." you coo, scratching your fingers in his beard.

"I am that, yeah." he gives you a big grin and catches your lips in a deeper kiss.

"Such a clever man." you coo.

"Now 'ats a grown woman's filthy mouth right there." he chuckles, rising and holding you in his arms.

"Such a provider. So protective and strong." you continue on in a purr.

"Right 'ats it." he lifts you and resituates his arms, walking out of the kitchen. "We're goin' back to bed, we are."

You kiss on his ears and giggle. "Such a brilliant mind. Such a dominating body. With a tongue that will bring me to my knees one way or another."

"I know which way it's gonna be this mornin' love." he smirks.

"I thought you'd want me on my back and not my knees." you tease.

"You know I'll take ya anyway I can have ya." he says sincerely, as you squeeze your arms around his neck, continuing to whisper praise into his ear past the doorway and continuing on after he'd kicked the door shut behind you.


	72. Stay In My Corner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains conversations about past abuse of a sexual nature. Although not graphic, I wanted to state it as to not upset anyone. 
> 
> Song for the chapter is Stay in My Corner by The Arcs.
> 
> Genevieve has put in the hard work for the life she has now. On a night out with Arthur, reminiscing over drinks at Alfie's club, a face she hasn't seen since she was young appears out of nowhere and stirs up all the bad feelings and past trauma that it brought upon her. Alfie reads her as always and finds out the truth, even if it hurts her too much to tell him herself. He delivers on his promise of no one ever hurting her and getting away it.

Arthur had come down to London for business for Tommy. Having already finished that part of his trip, he decides to call you and see if you'd like to get together for the evening. He makes it a point to call this time around because the effects of not doing so last time were still burned into his memory when he found Alfie having his way with you on top of your desk.

You sit at a more secluded booth in Alfie's club. Both you and Arthur are drunk, sharing stories and talking about marriage and babies and life outside of crime. You would seem just as normal as anyone else if you'd eavesdropped on the conversation. You got to suspend reality a bit as Alfie made snarky comments and came and went to handle business and schmoozing as the opportunities presented themselves. He'd never admit it, but he was thankful for having Arthur around, he kept you good and distracted and he knew he wouldn't let harm come to a single hair on your head. If there was something he had in common with the Shelby's, and particularly Arthur, it was that they would always fight for and protect you. His suspicions of you and Arthur having more than friendship between you had long since passed and he was thankful for it.

The hefty payout for the job done for the country, the killing of the fascists and Nazi's had certainly helped sway Alfie in his acceptance of the Shelby's as allies. You'd told him as you rode back from Birmingham the night you'd gotten drunk and sang for the entire bar how elated you were that he would entertain working with Tommy again for you. You poured out how proud you were of him, how touched he would change his stubborn ways for you and even though you were drunk, he felt that you really meant it. You also profusely apologized for Tommy having lied to him, but he understood. He knee jerk reaction was to get angry, and he admitted that, but he saw your point of view very clearly. He'd had to test the loyalty of many men and he knew how little trust he had in them personally, so he could only imagine with what you'd been through how low most men will go when they want something. He gave you a little bit of hell for it, whenever you would ask him to do something simple, such as fetch you a drink if he was going to the kitchen, he would ask you if you were sure you trusted him to do such a thing. At first, you had taken it seriously and he felt guilty afterward as he watched your previously cheerful face fall and your shoulders slump. He'd had to dig his way out of that one with kisses. But you soon caught on it was his way of making you pay for having done it and that was a totally acceptable price in your opinion.

With no secrets between you, you were both rather content with your lives at the moment. Living together was a dream for you, getting him to yourself so often, getting to wake up to him every morning and at least get to have him in your bed every night. He had started sending you gifts again, not all grand, sometimes something as simple as flowers or a batch of fresh bread to the house during the day. He didn't want you to feel like you weren't being doted on, what with your insistence that you cut back on your admittedly, lavish spending habits. Claire had been in shock when you sat down with the books in front of her and told her it was time to go through them, organize them and see where to cut corners. But you weren't about to cut anywhere that would affect anyone else, only yourself. So you went without shipments of special soaps and perfumes from France, canceled your portrait painting, saying you should put it off until you were married and have one done together. You were honing in the ways you'd stayed wild while culling the reckless behavior you'd been unlearning with your time in London. You felt good, solid like you were really getting a hold on yourself and your life again. Alfie satisfied your sexual needs, willing to play and experiment with you and as you loved the man it kept you perfectly happy, never considering looking elsewhere. If you'd known being in love with someone could've helped you from wanting to flight about the pretty boys you would've tried harder long ago to find it.

So when you were out with Arthur one evening, drunk and happy and not a care in the world, when a person from your past comes into your line of sight it shakes you more than it would have if you'd been on your toes and sober. Alfie is standing and talking to some of his men, his barked words all white noise to you as Arthur gossiped and shared stories. You rose a glass of wine to your lips and when you freeze in mid-motion, it even catches you off guard.

Arthur's face frowns deeply, seeing your eyes go wide, your face pale out. "What is it Genny?" he asks loudly, his drunken voice an echoing boom no matter what he tried to make it sound like.

You take a shaky inhale, seeing the man in an expensive tailored suit, walking on the lower level and looking around. When your mouth opens, tongue moving and lips trembling but no words come out, Arthur switches into protective mode.

He sets his glass down, scooting closer, speaking more quietly, putting his hand over yours and lowering your glass to the table as your hand had begun to shake. "Genny. What's wrong?" he asks with a low brow.

"Someone's here." your answer barely above a whisper. "In the tall hat. The man in the three-piece suit and the mustache." Your eyes start to blur and sting, having not blinked since you saw him. You begin to get flustered. You lower your gaze and put your hands on the table.

Alfie notices the sudden silence and seeing your body language stiff he turns his attention to you, leaning over the back of the booth to put his hands on your shoulders. "Somefin' wrong?" he asks, quirking his brow to Arthur.

"She said 'ere's a man here. She's frozen, poor thing." Arthurs observes, keeping his eyes on you.

"Who, love?" Alfie asks.

"The man in the tall hat. Mustache. Three piece suit. In front of the bar." you say softly, your hands up and touching Alfie's for comfort, your face down at your lap.

"Is that... fuck me that innit Prittance is it?" Arthur says with such disdain in his voice that Alfie knows something is wrong. He signals to his men to stay where they are next to him.

You nod and swallow loudly. "I need to..." you begin, clearing your throat and trying to get out of the booth. "Please move Arthur I need to be excused."

"Right, right." he says, sliding out of the booth and helping you.

"Who is that, love?" Alfie asks, pulling you to him as you try to leave for the restroom, blocking you from the man's sight.

"I need to go to the loo Alfie, please." you say not meeting his eyes, but he could see they were scared.

"Genny, what'd he do to you?" he cuts through the needless questions and gets to the point.

You shake your head and try to move gently away again.

"Genny you know you have to tell me. What the fuck am I supposed to do when ya start acting like a scared little bird? Tryin' to fly away. My Genny bee doesn't fly away does she?" he tries to be supportive and lift your chin up.

You take his hand and hold it, lowering it but forcing your eyes to meet him. "If I told you, you would kill him." you say flatly, holding his eyes to show you were serious. He lets you go, his forehead wrinkling, eyes batting in confusion, mind firing off options quicker than he could explore them.

"You follow her. Don't let her out of your sight except for in the loo. If you hear ANYFIN' that sounds wrong you go in, yeah?"

The young man nods and follows behind you quickly.

He turns to Arthur, who is watching you shrink into the distance with sad eyes.

"Now who the fuck is that and what the fuck did he do to our Genny?" Alfie spits out quietly, his shoulders hunched and body language ready to tear the man apart.

"I 'on't know if it's my place to say, mate." he shakes his head, his lips in a tight line as he sighs.

"I fuckin' swear Shelby if you don't tell me I'll beat it out of ya. She innit gonna tell me, she's fuckin' terrified. Now, who the fuck would scare her in such a way?" he demands.

Arthur looks back to meet Alfie's eyes, they're clearly hesitant, but he knew he's right. "Well." he begins, taking a deep breath. "She told me one night when we's pissed yeah? Talkin' 'bout our fucked up childhoods 'n that ya know? Reminiscing the 'ol trauma." he shrugs. "Apparently that man." he turns to finds him on the floor again, moving slowly about the space. "Did some awful things. And he's the reason she were kicked out of 'er own home when she was but a wee girl." he nods.

"What'd he do?" Alfie's voice is deep and dark, more animal than human now.

"She wouldn't say." he shakes his head. "But my guess is it's something fuckin' awful. As awful a thing as a man like 'im can do to a young girl." he shakes his head and looks to the ground. "I don't even wanna think about it."

Alfie shoots daggers with his eyes at the man who is oblivious to it. "I'm gonna fuckin' shoot him." he says, hand twitching for his gun.

"Ya can't fuckin' go off like some fuckin' cowboy there, Solomons, he's a powerful man, ya gotta bide your time if you want to take someone like him out."

"Powerful?"

"Some member of government me thinks? Somethin' of the sort." he tries to recall.

"Someone her father would know." he states coldly.

"Exactly." he gives a nod. "She's comin' back. Don't look so bloody angry." he suggests. "'Ello Genny." Arthur greets you with a sad smile.

"Alfie, love? Could we go home?" you ask with your purse clutched in your hands tightly.

"'Course sweetie." he says, rubbing his hands on your arms. "Ollie take her out the back, will you? I'll be out in just a moment, love. Just gotta tell 'ese boys what to do for the night. Fuckin' useless innit that?" he smiles and kisses your head. His eyes are dark as Ollie takes your arm and escorts you to the back. "That man 'ere. I want him followed. But don't get fuckin' caught. If you do get caught. You don't fuckin' know me, right? Ya got it? If he leaves here, I want him followed. I'll be back later for 'im. Abe, set up the basement for me." he adds with a dark tone to his order.

"The basement, sir?" he asks with raised brows, suprised by the request.

"Did I fuckin' stutter? Yes the fuckin' basement." he hisses, his chin jutting out at the man.

"Yes, sir." they all nod and break away, Alfie getting his coat and putting it on, taking a deep breath to center himself, to put on an indifferent face for you for the night.

Alfie tells Arthur to stay for a bit, look like things are normal, have some drinks, flirt, fuck whatever it was he did these days then to come back to Gen's he'd need him there for the night.

Alfie baby's you and you don't mind in the least. You're feeling terribly small like you had all those years ago. You'd been doing so well, feeling so confident and in control and then this man who had at one point destroyed your life, stripping you from everything that you'd once had appears out of nowhere. You believe it not be coincidence. What with George trying to fuck with you now. Of course, it was London and Alfie's club was popular, but you don't know why someone who worked with your father would be at a Jewish owned club. But perhaps he didn't even know who's it was, it wasn't like he was from London.

"You need to slow that mind down, pet." Alfie says, pulling you into his side. "I see those eyes dartin' about." he taps you on the nose and let out a heavy sigh.

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. Nuffin' to apologize for." he clarifies, kissing your head. "Ya want me to fetch ya little sleepy vial for ya? Help ya calm down? he offers, rubbing your arm reassuringly.

"Yes, please." you give in, rubbing your temples as he goes to your cabinet and brings it to you, sliding back into the bed. "Thank you." you speak softly, taking a drink of it and putting it on the bedside table.

"You've been doin' very well wif talkin' 'bout your feelin's as of late. Would that help you now?" he asks, pushing your hair back from your face, as he laid on his side, pulling you into his chest.

"I don't... it hurts to recall." you admit. You feel him nod, his chin moving in your hair.

"You know I'd happily remove anyone who hurts you from the face of the fuckin' earth, my love." he offers.

"I know. But you can't kill him." you mutter.

"Why not?" he asks, stroking your hair down your back as he knows relaxes you.

"Just can't. Not him." you say, your words mumbling now, he knows the potion you took was working.

"Is he important to ya love?" he asks.

"No." you slur out and snuggle your face into his chest. "He's just bad." you let out before sleep takes you. He holds you until your breathing is still, your lips parted with little snoozes escaping them.

"I'm gonna get him for you, my love." he says, kissing your forehead as he covers you up with the blankets. You don't register it at all, he touches your cheek one last time before he leaves.

He dresses, moving to the phone after waiting for Arthur to come home. "Do ya have him?" He asks his men on the phone. "And he's left? Right." he pauses, rubbing his chin. "You have the boys what don't look Jewish get him yeah? Steal a car, don't let no one see ya. Get him quiet and fast. And people have seen him elsewhere since he's left the club? Good." he nods. "Get him to the basement then. String him up. I'll be there soon."

"Ya gonna get 'im anyway?" Arthurs' voice carries from the doorway.

"No one hurts her and lives." he says, pointing in the direction of your bedroom. "I need you here, yeah? I need you to be able to say I was here all night. I got her out with her little sleepy time medicine, right? So she'll be fine for a while."

"Ah. Need me to be an alibi I see."

"I do." he nods, moving to the foyer of your home.

"And what about us?" he hears Claire with arms crossed across her chest, Aggie standing sheepishly behind her.

"Fuckin' 'ell." he groans, his shoulders slumping. "I was hopin' you were asleep." he says obviously.

"She told me who she saw tonight. I know what you think you're going to do." Claire announces walking towards him.

"What I fink? It's what I am gonna do, Claire. No thinkin' 'bout it. It's good as done."

"You are right about the no thinking part." she scolds and he purses his lips.

"I need you all here for my alibi as well. She's sleepin', she'll think I've been there the whole time. She won't know."

"So more lies?" She spits out and Alfie feels his face burn.

This was a secret, wasn't it? He sighs at the realization, so easily falling into his old habits that he hadn't even realized. "Then I'll tell her after it's done, yeah?"

"She told you not to do that." Claire says harshly.

"No one does whatever that man did to her and gets away with it. She won't let me kill her fuckin' father, thinks it'd be too obvious but I'll be damned if I've not got men on him every minute of the day to do such a thing. I told her I would protect her and that's what I'm gonna fuckin do, yeah? No one hurts her and lives." he spits out, his finger once again pointing in your direction.

Claire takes a deep breath and turns to Aggie. "Go see to her, Aggie. I need to depart some knowledge that you don't want to relive onto Mr. Solomons," she says with a solemn nod and Aggie frowns, knowing she was right. She waits for her to be out of earshot, a quiet room with only the patter of Aggie's feet echoing down the hall. "You can't kill him." she states plainly.

"Why the fuck not?"

"Because Gen wouldn't want you to." her arms go back across her chest, a look of disappointment on her face. "He's in a government position. People will try to find out what happened. He isn't some disposable lad who has no one."

"And I have killed people more important than 'im and here I stand, yeah? I pay the cops, Claire. I'm not some daft fuckin' donkey who doesn't know what he's doin'." his tone showing he takes clear offense to her statement. "So you tell me what he did to her so I can know what punishment to give 'im." he says moving closer to her, his voice seething and his head low. "I can see you hate him too." he says nodding her way.

"I do. I've wished him dead for years." she states coldly.

"Then tell me and we can all have our revenge." he offers.

The deal is a sweet one if it worked out. She knew Alfie was no amateur, and if anyone could pull it off, it would be him. She saw in his eyes he meant everything he said and that as long as he was around, no one would hurt you and get away with it. "She had to leave home because of him." she says, taking a less aggressive sigh and looking away from his intense gaze.

"Why?" he asks after her pause goes on too long.

"He's a friend of her fathers. Genevieve was rejecting every suitor that he sent her way. And in no delicate way. She was always very outspoken and rebellious towards anything her father tried to make her do. As you can imagine." she shrugs. "So George told her he was forcing her to marry that man. So when he was invited over, George leaves them in a room together alone, and displeased with her reaction when he tells her this... he..." she lets out a long sigh and closes her eyes. "He abused her." she forces out and waits before opening her eyes again. "I was there. I heard them and was locked away across the hall with the other girls. We were powerless." she shakes her head, rubbing her arms recalling the dark days. "He told her no one would believe her. Her word against his. That she had no right to refuse, she was his property now and after he was done with her no one would want a broken, used thing like her."

Alfie is deadly still, his face showing no emotion and that was how she knew he was close to exploding. "Go on." he grits out between clenched teeth.

"So, she runs to her mother. Who was horrified by the whole thing and approached George about it. There was fight that nearly tore that old, gilded house down. You know how bad Gen gets, so you can imagine the behavior of the woman who birthed her." her brows are high and her lips tight. "He refused to believe them, despite there being clear proof of it. I still remember how shaken Gen was. Dealing with that at such an impressionable age and then being treated in such a way by her father. To call her a liar with her looking like she did." she slumps her shoulders. "It wasn't as if she thought George loved her or anything but you can understand how she was broken by it nonetheless. He forced her out, saying he disowned her. Awful things were screamed and said, slaps and shoves given and taken by both. He said things no young girl should ever hear from anyone. Let alone their father. It broke her. She's carried those words with her all these years. They've fueled her to be better, most times, but they also fuel her demons. They made her think there was something wrong with her, deep down. Thinking there was something amiss about her that she couldn't fix, that she was unwanted, unlovable. It fueled a lot of her reckless and wild behavior. If it wasn't for Altar reigning her in, who even knows what would've happened. He gave her focus. Her mother eventually, under the guise of caring about the family's public image, of course, talked George into keeping her in the family for legal reasons. But it took him a long time to come to that decision and she had to build herself up from nothing on her own after that." her shoulder shrug, her hands up in defeat.

"That man." Alfie nods, his face red and his brow almost hiding his eyes. "That man did this to my Chanah?" he chokes out, his throat tight.

Claire looks at him with pity, knowing how much it hurt to know something like that about someone you loved. She simply nods.

"Has he had any contact with her since? She acted like she saw a ghost."

"She's been forced to be civil in social dinner situations. Her father kept inviting him, so even if she came home he was there and she eventually stopped going."

His heart breaks, his blood pumps faster, his face seems as if he's looking far away. His eyes narrow and twitch, darting back and forth in their clear overload of emotion. He knew this meant there had been no remorse from his man's end and he didn't feel bad in the least for about what he was about to do to him. In fact, he had started to feel a lot better about it. Certain things about your behavior start to make a lot more sense. Overwhelmed didn't begin to cover how he felt. He clears his throat as he felt a bit as if he were drowning in his emotions, both for your sake and his. "I am going to make him pay. For what he did to her. For what I'm sure he's done to others like her." he points at the door.

"I wish I could say I was against it." she shakes her head, her face now sad, lost in memories. "But I'm not. If you tell her after the fact, I can let you go. Because she deserves peace. Seeing her like that tonight I..." she swallows and wipes her face quickly as a tear threatens to show.

"I saw it too." he says with a nod.

"Nothing scares her anymore and she was..."

"Terrified."

"Yes." she nods and sighs. "I was hoping she had put it behind her but..." she shrugs. "Things like that don't fade so easily." she almost mumbles, but Alfie is close enough to hear.

"They do not." he says in agreement. "I will tell her, yeah? I will be careful. I will make him pay for what he's done to our girl. Be sure of that. She won't let me kill her father, but I will kill this man." he gives a stern nod.

"Be quick." Claire manages a whisper. "He doesn't deserve it but the sooner you're back-"

"The betta, yeah, I know." he says standing back up straight, fixing his coat and moving towards the door. "Thank you Claire. For telling me."

She gives a sad smile a nod. "I believe you to be the man for her. I wouldn't tell you otherwise. She's a complicated woman who has been through a lot and if I can share things like this with you and her not know I told you, then your ability to handle her better is worth the minor betrayal on my behalf."

"And I thank you for it. She will not know it was you. I guarantee that. I will be back as soon as I can." he gives a curt nod and with that, he disappears into the night to do the devil's work.


	73. Loverman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song for the chapter is Loverman by Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds.
> 
> Alfie takes revenge to defend Genevieve's honor. He keeps his promise and tells her after he does. Genevieve has a surprising reaction, even taking her off guard as the night leads to more honesty between them than ever before.

Alfie sat silently in his anger on the drive back to London. He was stone-faced and hearted as he let himself go back to that dark place he knew inside himself to do the things this man deserved to have done to him.

He's careful and planned as always in these endevors. Different cars, guards, not wear his signature hat. He makes his way into the back entrance of the club and down into the cellar. Ollie waits, hands clasped in front of himself as he can tell from the sound of his boss's footsteps that this would be a long and bloody night for him.

"He's in there." Ollie says not making eye contact. Alfie takes off his coat and shirt, leaving his suspenders hanging from his sides, not wanting blood on anything light enough for it to show. "No one saw us. Everything's in the clear." he remarks as an afterthought as he saw Alfie was ready to get to his dark deeds without need of the confirmation. "May I ask-?" he begins.

"No." he states, turning his face towards Ollie and he diverts his gaze on sight.

He stomps into the windowless stone walled room. The man hangs from his tied wrists from a hook in the middle of the dark, bare space. A drain sits in the middle of the floor, the only thing to interrupt the echoing of Alfie's intimidating footsteps is the crates stacked against one wall.

The man squints under the single bulb, a single bead of blood coming down from his brow where he'd been knocked unconscious to be brought to his final resting place. "Who the hell are you?" he asks with a posh accent.

"You can call me, yeah? The wanderin' Jew." he says with a nod, walking slow around the man and thumbing his nose. "But it looks like you are the one that has wandered into the wrong place, mate." he says with a dark tone dripping from his words as he spoke them slowly and certainly.

"I don't know who you think you are or what you think this might bring you but you've got the wrong man."

"Nah." he shakes his head, stopping in front of him and crossing his arms, his brow low and heavy over his eyes, lips disappeared under his mustache as he commands his anger. "I know I've got the right one 'n this is gonna be a judgment of satisfaction. 'At's what 'is is." he raises his chin, his face shadowed by his sharp features and the stark light to obscure his face and make him look even more threatening than his body language already managed to.

"For what? What did I do to you?" he asks, his face still looking pompous somehow."

"You have hurt someone I care about. And I'm the type of man who don't let fings go ya see." he squares up against the man. His chin pushes back in concern for the closeness of Alfie's rough face.

"What do you want? Money? I can get you money. I haven't killed anyone." he says defensively.

"No I've got me own money mate." he says with a huff from his nostrils. "And you innit killed no one? I believe you might've killed a little girls innocence or time or two, yeah? Killed her belief in herself? What sort a man does such a thing." he puts his nose so close to the hanging man's he has to back away for them not to touch.

"Oh, bloody hell. You a pimp of some sort? Look I paid for what I did to those girls."

"No." he says loudly, slapping the man across the face hard and fast. "Looks like you're an even ore miserable excuse for a man that I thought." he backs away, looking at the contents of the room for something he could use.

"Look, a man like what he likes." he says with a nervous chuckle. "How am I supposed to know what I did if you don't tell me?" he asks.

"Fink reaaaaal hard." he says, reaching out, his head lowered and shoulders still to reach for a crow bar laying on top of a crate. "Almost fifteen years ago now. Little girl you threw yourself at. Barely a woman. Her father believed your words over hers. Daft fuckin' prick he is. Just like you." he turns and points the bar of steel at the man.

He sees the man's eyes searching. "Oh." he says, eyes looking away. "Greene." he says quietly.

"Her name is Genevieve." he says, hitting the man in the stomach with the edge of the bar.

"Yeah." the man says, groaning and gasping.

"You remember now?" he asks, an attitude in his voice.

"Yeah." he mutters, eyes hesitant in meeting Alfie's.

"What makes a man do and say such things, eh? To a little girl no less?" the question is mostly rhetorical as he takes the bar to the man's knees. "Now me. I was in the war. I've done some fucked up things meself. But never in me life have I hurt a woman in such a way. What would your mum fink of ya, eh? What an aboslute maggot you are. A fuckin' manky monster. Preying on little girls and lettin' 'em get put out in the streets, tellin' 'em they's broken and you own 'em?" he puts the end of the bar under the man's chin.

"She was young, I knew I could get away with it. She was supposed to be married to me so I thought, why not take it now?"

Alfie puts the curved end of the bar in the man's mouth. "She was not yours to take. And to fink you would've treated her the same or worse if that monster did make her marry you. You are lower than dog shit on the bottom of me shoes you fuckin' tosser."

"Why do you care? That was forever ago." he says, his words muffled.

"Because she'll be my wife and when she saw you tonight she looked like she'd seen a ghost. And nothing scares that woman. 'Specially not some dodgy posh cunt like you." he growls.

The man swallows, drool accumulating in his mouth from the taste of metal and grime from the bar Alfie was slow pressing into his jaw. His brow furrows, trying to think if he knew who this man was. "Durand." he mumbles.

"'At's her name now, yeah. But not for long. Soon it'll be Solomons." he hisses, a demented smile on his face.

"Oh fuck." the man groans, realization as to who he was dealing with hits him.

"Oh fuck is right!" Alfie laughs, jerking the bar back quickly and taking out a few on the man's teeth with it.

He moans and shouts, blood pouring from his mouth.

"Now 'at we know each other. I'm gonna have you tell me everyfing you did to her. 'N for everyfing you did to hurt her I'm gonna hurt you worse. And if I fink you're leaving somefin' out... I'm gonna hurt ya. So best to tell me the truth, eh?" he commands with a tilt of his head. "'Cause you're not gettin' outta 'is room alive, mate."

\------

He has the boys take care of the evidence after he kills the man. Or take care of what was left of him. He washes off at his home in London, scrubbing away the evidence and changing, burning his clothes that held any blood on them. He could hear the cries of the man broken by the wet sounds from his throat and lungs filling with his own fluids. The fractured clotted sludge from his insides coming out of holes Alfie had put in his body, the blood that was spat out of his mouth as he pleaded and begged washes down the drain. Alfie's face stays cold, knowing he'd done what needed to be done for the thing that was most precious to him.

He comes back home to you, once again driven in silence. He wasn't feeling regretful in the least, a calm and self-assuredness came over him after he watched the man breathe his last breath. He kept repeating to himself over and over, no one would get away with hurting you as long as he was around.

He comes in quietly to your bedroom, sending Aggie away with a gesture of his hand as he takes off his clothes and gets into the pajamas you'd bought him. He watches you as you sleep, totally at peace, snuggled up to the pillow that was serving as him in his absence.

Light from the moon barely filters through the tops of the windows, he can only make out the faintest traces of your soft skin, his fingers moving down your cheek and jaw slowly, taking in your delicate features at rest, something he hadn't had as much time for as of late. You stir, something he didn't expect and he sighs, watching you stretch like a harmless kitten before rubbing your face.

"Alfie, darling is something the matter?" you inquire with sleep heavy words, propped up on your side in the bed. You can almost make out his face, it's set stiffly, his eyes hidden in shadow as he reaches out and takes your hand into his.

"Nuffin's the matter, my love." he whispers to ease you. You nod and let yourself rest your head back on your pillow, rubbing your thumb over his hand.

"Then come back to bed with me." you insist softly.

"I'm afraid I've got somefin' to tell ya first, Gen. It can't wait 'til mornin'." you see his head shake and hear the solumn tone in his voice. It raises your subdued senses into higher alert.

"What?" you rasp out, sitting up and scooting closer to him.

"I'm sorry to wake you with this love. But there's somethin' I should tell you." he pauses, his words holding grit to them as he forces them out.

"What have you done, Alfie?" you ask, your grip on his hand tightens.

"That man." he begins.

You shake your head. "Alfie, no." you whisper.

"That man at the club tonight." he pauses, taking a moment to audibly swallow. "After we left I had my men follow him." his sentences are paced and well rehearsed. "I had 'im put into the cellar. After you went to bed I left and went back to the club. After some... persuasion... he answered all my questions." he says with a certain, calm tone. "And I killed 'im." he states coldly, a nod and a characteristic grunt afterward.

"Alfie you-" you hurry to move up to your knees, your hand on his shoulder.

"Listen to me, Genevieve." he demands. Your mouth hangs open and you hold your words back with a sigh. "We ain't gotta talk about it. In fact I'd prefer if we forgot either of us ever fuckin' knew." he spits out. "And I know you dinnit want me to do it." he says defensively. Your shoulders slump. "As long as I'm 'round there innit gonna be no one that hurts you, Genevieve, yeah?" he moves his head towards you as you kneel next to him on the bed.

"You didn't need to do that, Alfie." you mutter, slightly worried.

"I wanted to." he states clearly.

"He's of high standing." you tell him, your hand going to his face to make him look at you. "What if you get caught?" he only sees worry for him when he meets your eyes and it hurts his chest.

"I ain't gonna get caught." he responds reassuringly.

"Why did you do it?" you beg for andanswer with your eyes and you shake his face. "I told you not to."

"I had to for what he did to you Genny, you fuckin' know 'at, why you keep pushin' it, eh?" he says holding your upper arm.

"I could've done it if I wanted to." you bite back at him.

"Well now you don't have to, do ya? I took care of it for ya." he says roughly releasing your arm.

"Alfie."

"I don't wannt hear it, Gen."

"Alfie."

"Fuckin' wot?"

You swallow loudly and it breaks his confusing growing anger. He's completely disarmed when you wrap your arms around his neck as his arms move up to hold your back. His hands hit your bare skin. He takes a shaky inhale at the feeling of you so warm and soft in his arms. You were something he was compelled to protect, this version of you. This soft and heartbroken woman was his to keep safe.

"No one's ever done anything like that for me before." you whisper into his ear. Your soft tone blindsiding him. You pull back slowly, your lips dragging from his ear to mouth. Your eyes were stinging with confusing tears as you wanted to be angry and you also felt so gut wrenchingly moved by his tone and willingness to exact an act of revenge when he knew you wouldn't. "You're going to keep trying to protect me even though I tell you not to aren't you?"

"Are ya just now figurin' 'is out?" he asks, somehow makign the words feel like they raked across your inner thighs. "No one's gonna hurt ya and get away wif it." You plant a soft kiss against his lips, his words sending direct blows to your chest. "Ever." he states defiantly before pushing your lips together again, exhaling harshly as one hand moves to the side of your head.

"Why would you be so reckless?" you whimper out through his biting kisses. "You can't be so brash," you say weakly as he groans into you. "You can't let them find out you did it, Alfie." you whine into his mouth, his hands kneading into your back as you move across his lap, straddling him.

"No one's gonna know, love." he sucks on your neck for a moment before moving his mouth to your ear. "I promise." you murmur against his words, wanting to believe them desperately.

"Don't let them take you from me." you rasp out in a broken breath as his teeth graze your collar bone. His tongue drags across the place he was kissing as he grunts as your words hit him. He stops and holds your back and hip tightly, looking into your eyes and finding them threatening to cry. He lets his eyes shut for a moment as he collects himself. He holds you tightly and moves you onto your back gently, keeping your body close to his. His knees are on the bed as he leans over you, the arm that was holding your back still there securely as his other hand holds your face. He leans in and looks over your soft, wanting expression. He's never seen this look on your face before.

"Is that why you didn't want me to do it?" he whispers, looking at your lips as they tremble with subdued worry. Your eyes widen and he can feel your shakey inhale.

"I cared about you, not him." you admit with a soft shake of your head, his thumb rubs your cheek as he sighs down at you. "He was too high profile to kill. People will come looking for him." he stays quiet, looking at you everywhere but your eyes. You move your hand, your fingers touching his face like he was yours in tender caresses. "I don't care that you killed him. I care that you'll get caught." you gulp and let out a small whine as you hold back tears that have sat behind your eyes for far too long. Your hands are light and trembling as they press to his chest. "They've taken too much from me already." you say with a slight shake of your head, you wrap your hands tightly around the collar of his shirt, yanking him closer. "Don't you fucking dare let them take you from me too, Solomons." you order through clenched teeth, your eyes sparkling with tears in the low light.

"Nothin' is ever going to take me from you again, Genevieve." he says softly, holding your face, your hand on top of his now. "I should've never left to begin wif." he admits with defeat in his voice, he kisses you hard and you want to sob. "Fuckin' wanker I was." he says between kisses as he feels you smile against his lips.

"They can't take you from me, Ari, I wouldn't be able to stand it." you confess into the dark, his lips pressing into your cheeks, lips stinging from the salt of your silently falling tears as you speak.

"No one's takin' me nowhere, pet." he promises with a gravelly tone, hands moving to your chest, hands desperate and firm against you as his kisses were planted with no rhyme or reason. "I'm stayin' wif you, yeah? Always." he moves down, lips fast to your chest. "Not even death is gonna make me leave you Chanah. You understand?" he asks with a harshness to his voice that makes your heart flutter.

"Stay alive. Stay with me. I can't have him take you away. I can't. I-" your words are rushed out in your desperation for him to understand.

"Shhhh." he presses his lips against yours, hands now up your gown and moving over your hips. "No one's takin' me, love. I'm yours. None of 'ems worth shedding a tear over. He's dead. I killed him for you. I'd kill anyone to avenge ya, love. Anyfin'. Everyone. You're mine and I'm your keeper now. No one hurts you and gets away with it anymore. No one." With the desperate words come more desperate kisses and hands. Your clothes quickly removed and the air heavy with a twisted, romantic agony that serves both of your dark sides. You are filled with a heartbroken lust for each other, as if it could be the last time you had him in your bed. As if he could be taken away come morning, you loved him.

 

"Ari I love you. Please, darling." you pant out, so many emotions rushing through you, your body feeling on edge and tense, his skin the only thing that warmed you and eased your suffering.

His lips suck against you, taking in the buds of your breasts, the softness of your stomach as he nips at your thighs, parting them and resting himself between them. "And I more than love you, Chanah. Never you worry that beautiful mind over any other man. It's all my burden to bear for you now." he huffs out, his mouth spilling out words without much thought or consequence as your legs locked around him, him grinding himself against your center.

"How dutifully you love me, Ari. How sick we are for each other. How mad have we let ourselves be for love?" you moan as he pushes into you, your sincere words being expressed physically by you both. "To have let ourselves become so dependent on another?"

"I am as demented as a man can be." he pants, lips moving back to your own, a heavy hand on your thigh, the other by your head on the bed, latched into your hair. "I will serve you as long as I live in this fuckin' insanity, my love. I no longer wish to be called sane since lovin' you. There is no going back to who we were before now is there? Only this madness. Only us." he pumps into you with careless thrusts, your mouths open and molded against one another, speaking hurried and passionate words as you shared the same breath.

 

"Only us." you moan out, hands clutching to his back. "Only you darling. There's only you now." you cry out, as your eyes squeeze shut and tears break through. Your life was now one you felt. He had taken a life in the name of your honor, to help you heal a part of yourself that you couldn't do on your own. There would never again be another Prittance to hurt you. Alfie would never leave you alone because of something another man did to you. He would always believe you over any man's word. He would never hurt you, abuse or use you in the ways other men would. You were safe now. You were with a man who would kill for you and you the same for him. You were both irreversibly connected in this love you'd found. It felt like madness. Like you were losing yourself, something becoming unhinged as you let yourself open up to the possibilities. You didn't need any sort of ceremony to define it for you, in this moment your bodies as one and your breath shared you were reconciled to the time your souls had spent apart. He had given you something you didn't know you needed. He gave you himself, fully, making your hurt his. He would carry your pain with you, and it had been so lonely and heavy all these years.

"You are mine, my love. Mine." he groans through gritted teeth against your throat. "My hunger for you knows no bounds. I want all of you. Good and bad. As long as it's you I need it." he moans, both your voces lilting higher.

"I'm yours. All yours. Take me." your voice sounds like you're begging, and maybe you were. You were finally loved enough to give yourself over to it. You let it engulf you, drowning willingly as his hips grew faster and harder, the sweat and tears from you both dripping across your skin, you could almost taste the intensity of it as your lips rhythmicly pushed againgst his head and shoulder, whimpering your revelation to him. With your eyes closed, your face feeling the brush of his hair and beard, you bask in the smell of him, soap and musk, your tongue reaching out to take him in with every sense.

Your mouth open and panting, taste the sting of salt against your lips as the sounds that emanated from you were no longer voluntary, both of you sounding angry as your bodies found their end. The painful night you'd both had concluded where it should, it each other's arms. You lie together in a tangled mess, your skin pinked and now covered in bumps as the chill of the air hits you before he encases you in a cave of covers.

He lay across your chest, your fingers combing through his damp hair as you felt his breath fan across your neck where his rough cheek was planted on your sternum. "Alife?" you breathily whisper.

He pushes the covers back, exposing yourselves to the darkness. "Mmm?" is the grunt he manages, his muscles now sending signals to loosen and shut down at the weight of the day they had carried.

"I know people think me mad." you begin, your voice heavy with honesty, a softness that only comes with true vulnerability is laced within it and his ears pick up on it the moment your swollen lips part to speak. "I have been at times. I'll admit. But it was only temporary. For the purpose of completing something." your voice trails and his blue eyes catch the light, looking over your face cast in shadows. "But I've never let myself need anyone else. Ever. Not my mother, not Altar, no one." you pause and sigh, wetting your lips as you projected your eyes down to his face, set in an open and honest pose against your skin. "It..." you let out a small noise of discomfort and he raises his head to get a better look at you. "It frightens me." you confess, your brow furrowed, chest now rising and falling slowly beneath him, the rush of the deed now passed, but the emotions still moving frantically in your mind.

"Fear has it's place." he says with an agreeable nod. "But that place is not our love." he assures you simply, a kiss to your forehead. "C'mere my precious flower." he says, grunting and moving to his side and taking you into his arms tightly. He speaks quietly to you, his hand holding your chin up as your face wants to bury itself in the warm and thick seclusion of his chest. "Know you have no reason for fear when it comes to me. I will not leave you, as I know you need me as well. We wouldn't purposely do irreversible damage to something that has come to us in such perfect condition would we?"

"Never." you whisper in response.

He presses his lips to your head as it shakes gently back and forth in support of your sentiment. "You are a strong woman, Chanah. The strongest that I know. Tenacious to a fault." he smiles against your hair and closes his eyes, letting you retreat to the safety of his embrace. "The only fear I know now is losing you. And it is frightening, have no doubt. To make yourself reliant on another. As we both know us humans are so terribly flawed." he sighs. "But isn't that what makes it so astoundin' love? That we, in all our imperfection, found somethin' that we fear. We were not wholly human before. There is no man without fear, for without it he isn't a man. But now we know it. Now we are so frightfully human we are aware of how fragile we are in actuality." his voice is soft and smooth, the certainty of his words, some you had said to him before calm you. He was so eloquent in his rough delivery of sentiment to you. But the coarse voice made the brilliant words that much more charming to you. "You have taught me, yeah? In all your beauty and art, that the messy parts of us are what make us human. And our love is that pet, it is messy. It's only perfect in that it was made for us. Nothin' else comes so easy. Not with people like us. You're dramatic, I'm stubborn as an old 'orse and we're both prone to outbursts at the expense of those 'round us." he let's out a tiny huff of a laugh. "But it's who we are. We ain't changin' it now." he lets out a gruff laugh and he feels your shoulder shift as you smile against him, face nuzzling into his chest as he wrapped his arms around you fully, pulling your body against his fully.

"I wouldn't want you to change." you murmur against him.

"'N 'at, see? 'At's love. Ya puttin' up with me, me puttin up wif you. Although I do say I got the much betta bargain out the two, love." he grins and squeezes you, pressing his face into your hair. "I love ya to pieces, Genny. I do. To the point of madness. Always. Never question it. Ya got nothin' to fear when it comes to me lovin' you, yeah?"

You nod and move your arm to around his waist. "I've never loved someone like I love you." you admit, your eyes shut and feeling the soft scratch of his chest hair against your face.

"Nor I you." he whispers in agreement.

"And you aren't frightened by it?"

"Why would I be frightened if you are the one keepin' me heart? I know no one more perfect for such a job."

You hum happily. "I'm not perfect. But I am yours." you say, kissing his exposed skin.

"You need your rest." he hums, feeling his body settle and relax against yours. "No other reason for you to say such nonsense as you not bein' perfect."


	74. Tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song is Tonight by Hard-FI  
> Alfie gets Genevieve out of the house and they're met with annoyance at the appearance of a fellow businessman both despise. A disgruntled party from a transaction gone wrong tries to ruin their night and get them both arrested. They succeed in one of those things. But Genevieve proves more adept at being a gangster ('s woman) than even she expected.

Alfie had gotten you out of your rut that you'd put yourself in with your tendency to over think when it came to things you genuinely cared about. So instead of staying in and reading and studying on a Friday, he took you out to his club like it was your first date again.

The dancing girls were in full swing under the bright lights of the stage. The club was dim otherwise, a typical blanket of mystery applied on a busy night to make the patrons want to enjoy themselves. A gentle nudge of encouragement to think they were safer than they were. You were among them, hanging off of Alfie's arm as you made your way into the warm and loud space from the dreary cover of outside. 

You had reasons to celebrate and he had made sure you were dripping in jewels and a new gown to not only show your importance to those that would see you together, but to yourself. You had heard whispers of Alfie spending time in the jewelry quarter as of late. You had admittedly gotten a plume of butterflies inside you at the mention of it, springing up thoughts of engagement and proposals. You couldn't help but think the large and sparkling jewels he'd gifted you earlier in the night might be a cover for such activities. He was a very clever man after all, he would know that you would hear he was spending time with the tradesmen. The thought of him hunched over a glass case, bickering with the best of the best in their profession over something for you added a certain twinkle to your eyes on this night when you looked at him. Even when he would grumble and curse as you yet again, kissed his cheek only to have to swipe away at the schmutz left behind. But then again, it never took much for you to look at him adoringly. 

You're standing at the stairs that divide the levels of the club, watching the expressions travel across Alfie's face as he speaks about you, praising your talents to a woman who had seen you speak at a charity function. He was a salesman and he was the best you knew, talking you up so people couldn't help but be tempted to buy your works. 

"But aren't artists known for being difficult to deal with?" a man's voice that you unfortunately recognized comes from out of sight as the woman you spoke to looks at the tall and daunting man with rapidly blinking eyes, not accustomed to such a rude interruption in part of society. 

"Excuse us, Miss." Alfie says politely, a nod given to the woman as she gives the interruption a dirty look and walks away. "What are you doin' here?" Alfie groans, looking Cyrus Horne up and down as he stood with his hands latched to the lapels of his jacket. 

"Heard you two love birds were out and about tonight and had to stop by. Not every day I get to speak to both of you at once, is it? Hard to talk to you two, you know."

"I'd prefer it be more difficult." you say with a sigh. 

Giving you an amused tilt of his head he smirks down at you. "Even though I know you people don't work on Friday nights. Or at least you say you don't, we know you aren't exactly keeping it all level when it comes to your little foray into being pillars of your community and all that...I thought you might be willing to answer some questions for me."

"If it's business you could make an appointment." Alfie says obviously.

"And you wouldn't see me would you?" he says crossing his arms.

"What is it?" you say exasperated, just wanting him to leave. 

"I wanted to check with how you two were doing. Together. I've heard some nasty rumors about you Solomons. Other women...in cities far from here while little Durand here plays homemaker. Never took you for liking blondes." he sneers.

Alfie's shoulder rise and fall but his face stays indifferent. A skill you wish came as naturally to you as it did for him. "If you are accusing me of infidelity I would be happy to say your accusations are false."

You knew what he was referring to and you stand by Alfie's statement with a strong face and squared shoulders. "And what if I had heard he was seen cozying up to a little blonde up in Manchester at some other club?" Horne asks, looking over to you.

"I'd say you don't know what you're talking about." you respond curtly with pursed lips. "And even if he were, which he is not. What business would it be of yours?" you give him a glance of disdain as you flip your hair. 

"Well the breaking up of two businesses would be my, in fact, my business. Seein' as you've already caused a bit of trouble for me already."

"What the fuck are ya on about? We ain't been dealin' wif you."

"Not directly. But it seems there was interference with some friends of mine...some Americans. I had a lot riding on their entry into the London business world and they suddenly all pulled out. Calling London businesses undignified and uncivilized."

"What does that have to do with us?"

"From what I hear you were doing some business with some Americans a few weeks ago." he says with certainty.

"I have not had any contracts with any Americans." you shake your head. 

"No but there was a meeting." he says with a lilt of superiority.

"No. I had no business with any Americans. If there were new Americans in town in the industry, I would know. I'd be working with Abeille to set up with them before anyone else did." you defend your skills. 

"It was about both of your businesses."

"You know I innit been workin' with no bloody Americans." Alfie huffs out. 

"I mean both of HER businesses."

"I only have Abeille." you retort.

"Let's let go of that lie for a moment shall we? Between old friends?"

You and Alfie both roll your eyes. "Then fuckin' get on with it, mate." Alfie groans. "Out wif it!" he says with an accompanying hand gesture. 

"Durand had a meeting with Americans. This meeting did not come to pass as it should. And I've been told that it was directly due to your interference Solomons." he answers in a snappy tone. "So I want to know why you are involved in Abeille business, as that was what the meeting was originally for, and I want to know why you made a handful of American businessmen fuckin' disappear." he asks, leaning in with his almost white blue eyes that made your stomach churn. 

"I ain't been in works with no Americans." he states again definitively. "I certainly not makin' so bloody business men "disappear". What load of bollocks is that? I'm a businessman. I conduct business not snuff it out before it comes to pass. And I don't meddle in Gen's business. It is hers, in whole. It will remain that way. She built it up herself, she handles the contracts and I have no part in it. So I don't know where ya gettin' ya information from. But it's not correct."

"And I have no idea what you're talking about. I'd love to do business with the Americans. An international agreement with some restaurant owners would benefit me greatly. I have no reason to turn away their offers."

"I know you don't. But perhaps your darling here might that you don't know about." he leans into Alfie, speaking quietly. "You've caused a very large disruption in my assets Solomons because of your men interrupting that meeting. I don't know why you did it. But those men turning tail and going back home has cut significantly into my profits. And I am not a man who fucks around with money."

"Neither am I." he sneers back, not backing down from Horne's intense delivery. "And if you got a fuckin' point to make. You better bloody well make it fast because we are here tonight to celebrate and I'll not have to likes of you and your rubbish accusations ruining what should be a night of revelry for us."

"Horne. I don't care for your baseless threats one bit. If you have something, say it. We're both very busy people and I want to get on with this evening, apart from you. Now I have many things to be thankful for and I'd like to continue talking about my achievements with people that have some bloody manners instead of you."

He leans away, his posture pin straight. "I know you're both very, very busy people aren't you?" he says with a cool, calmness to his voice that you do not care for one bit. "I was merely seizing the opportunity to speak with you both. It's so hard to get ahold of you Genevieve, one would have to steal you away to get a word in. And what a shame it would be to have to separate you from your darling, hmmm? A man like him can only make problems for a woman like you."

"I won't have you speaking to her that way." Alfie says pushing up chest to chest with Horne. Despite Horne being taller, Alfie didn't back down with his jutted chin and low brow. You could feel the tension in his muscles as your hands stayed around his arm, your face indifferent to make the scene not look as tense as it was to onlookers. 

"And don't speak of him in such a manner." you snap back. "Leave. You know we'll have you forcibly removed and I'd like to avoid you soiling an otherwise lovely night." you say in an offended tone and a sharp nod of your head.

"Very well." he says, readjusting his jacket. "But don't be surprised when his actions come back to bite you, sweetheart."

"Fuck off Horne." you bark at him, not hiding the disgust in your face as you gently pull Alfie back to your side. 

Alfie stares him down as he saunters out of the club. People are whispering and trying not to be obvious as they look at the two of you. Alfie lets his shoulders relax, knowing his anger would serve no purpose at the moment, only fueling whatever rumors would be started by the public exchange. "I'm sorry 'bout that love." he mutters under his breath.

"No, no. You did nothing wrong." you insist, reaching over and patting his chest. "He's an animal. Any interaction I've had with him has been absolutely awful and that's without you around as well. He's just a disgusting person. No getting around it."

"You supposed to be celebratin' your fing's tonight and he..." he takes a deep breath and gives a nod to a passerby to show everything was fine.

"Come here my darling." you say, using your gloved hand to move his face towards yours, a gentle kiss to his lips. "I will forget it and enjoy the night with you. Can't let such people ruin our free time can we?" you give him another peck. "So let's forget that fucking tosser and enjoy ourselves, yes?" you say with large endearing eyes that called out for him to play along, even if he was still fuming. 

"Right." he guffs out. "Let's go get ya a drink, love." he says, his hand going protectively against your lower back as he moves first through the people towards the bar.  
\-----  
Later in the evening, a few glasses of wine in, which nowadays is enough to give you a happy buzz, you're slow dancing with Alfie as the peak crowds have passed. The floor is still alive with moving bodies, lovers in each other's arms as you all sway and stay in your enclosed bubbles of adoration. As much as Alfie disliked dancing in public, he would indulge you on the rare occasion with a slow dance. Tonight happened to be one of those occasions. You were caught off guard as you heard his annoyed tone of voice begin, your eyes closed as your cheek rested against his chest, totally oblivious to the people around you. But he was never oblivious, that was part of his job. His lack of fantasy indulgence afforded you to be able to forget about the less appetizing bits of your life for small suspended moments. It was something that you were grateful for. 

"I'm busy innit I?" he says after one of his men tries to pull him away. 

"Sir this is. This is important." he says with a stuttered delivery. 

"Fuckin' wot then?" he says, keeping you to him as the man sighs and gives in, whispering something to him in his ear. "Fuckin' 'ell." he says and you feel his shoulders slump as his hands are already moving to your back.

"What is it?" you say with an almost sleepy delivery.

"Right. Now pet, I'm afraid I got some bad news." he begins eyes looking over to the entryway as his bottom lip disappears under his full mustache. Your heart sinks and your lips pout involuntarily. He speaks very quietly, his hand moving to your chin to keep your eyes on him. "There's gonna be some policemen comin' in 'ere in a few minutes. They're on their way." he says in a very calm and steady voice.

Your eyes open widely as your back straightens at the news. "They what?" you squeak out.

"Apparently they are comin' to get us for some questionin'." he says as your chin pushes into your neck.

"Us?" you say with a shaky voice.

"'At's what the intelligence is sayin'. Now we innit bein' arrested, yeah? They ain't got nothin' on us. Just like I promised. Me guess is someone has done one of 'em anonymous tips and we know who we've both pissed off tonight." he says with pursed lips. "But you remember what we went over, yeah? In case somefin like this did happen?"

"Of course." you say with a quick nod of your head. 

"Then there's nuffin' to worry 'bout is there?" he says with a smile. "They are still on my payroll, right? Probably a call in from a higher up. They can't keep us long. They gotta let us go after a bit. This may end up bein' a long night in a way I had no intentions of it ever bein'. But fink of it as practice, eh? You never really messed with these boys so you'll get some real gangster experience in under ya belt innit ya?" he grins, his nose grazing yours as he keeps his attention split between you and the doors. 

"Do you know what it's about?"

"I do not. But no matter what it is, we got a game plan dunnit we?" he gives you a reassuring nod. "They's coming in the doors now, pet. Don't you worry 'bout me, eh?"

You pout despite knowing you both had a strategy for these sorts of events, no matter what happened. "I love you. Don't worry about me either. I've been through worse I'm sure of it." you respond softly with a smile.

"I love you too." he coos back, you both looking into each other's eyes, totally ignoring the pause in the music, the eyes all turned towards you both, still swaying in each other's arms. You ignore the stern words of the policemen as they approach. "Now give us a kiss for the road, eh?" he grins. 

You keep your lips together, eyes shut as your arms are pulled behind your backs. Both your faces strong and dignified despite the situation, back straight and proud, eyes non-plussed as you're finally torn apart, sharing an apologetic glance before you're both shown into separate cars. 

\-------

You sit in the bare room with your hands clasped in your lap and a cup of tea in front of you. You were waiting for another round of questions, your face looking bored much to the annoyance of the men that had been trying to break you. 

It had started out as them trying to get any information out of you. You simply sat still and looked at them with large innocent eyes. "I have no idea what you're talking about." being the response most commonly given. Then the questions became more specific.

"You were both seen on the night in question when Lord Prittance went missing." one of the two men in the room with you began. One was short and had a mustache and kept his jacket on, he was the one demanding things of you. The other was lean and had bright green eyes, a slight stubble of ginger on his face. You're assuming they were growing tired of being there as well. 

You sit and blink at them. Not responding to anything that wasn't a question. 

"Did you see him there that night?"

"Where?" you say with a tilt of your head, deliberately messing with them and making them be specific so they couldn't misuse your words. 

"At Alfie Solomons club."

"I did. He's rather tall. Wore a dated top hat on top of that. How could a woman with a fashion sense such as I not notice an atrocity like that?" you exclaim.

They both roll their eyes at your answer. "And did you see him leave?"

"No. Alfie and I went back to my home for the night shortly after I saw him."

"Did Solomons interact at all with Prittance? Any arguments, anything to make him react in violence?"

"Absolutely not. My Alfie is not a violent man." you say with complete honesty in your voice as they both narrow their eyes at you. "I was tired and I wanted to retire back to my home with my beau. So that's what we did."

"And you left together?"

"We took his car back to my home outside the city. Where we had a nightcap and went to bed."

"And he was with you all night?"

"We were in each other's arms the entirety of the evening."

"At no point did he leave?"

"No. We sleep in a rather close way after we've been intimate and we had on this particular night and I would know if he had left."

"How would you know?"

You purse your lips at the man. "Because we fall asleep with him inside me." you answer in an offended tone, leaning forward with a furrowed brow. "Do you need to know how we fucked as well? My goodness." you say with a shake of your head as your response makes the man slumped back in his chair at your language. 

"Maybe we do." he retorts back with a back attitude.

"I had been enjoying wine all evening and chatting with my dear friend Arthur Shelby. Yes, that Arthur Shelby. He was also staying at my home that evening as he was in town and I wouldn't dare have a friend stay anywhere else but with me if they were so close. He stayed at the club after we left, but I was informed he came home later in the evening my staff. So if you'd like to discuss Alfie's whereabouts with him as well, he would also tell you he was with me the entire evening."

"And how would you know that?"

"Because Alfie was with me the entire night. Pink wine makes me rather amorous and it's possible poor Arthur had to hear us making love as we do go about it for some time after a few drinks. You see Alfie's a rather patient man and he likes to take his time as much as I might be opposed to the idea when I am a bit drunk. Seeing as I was a bit tipsy that night he was on top and it was rather romantic I do recall. He is a surprisingly soft lover. What for how gruff he seems outside of bed. With his harsh appearance and sharp words. But he's always very soft with me. And that night was no different. We made love well into the night but were asleep before the sun came up. We slept in that next morning and had tea in bed. I have my staff that can also attest to this. They most certainly heard our lovemaking if Arthur did not. Alfie can make me rather loud as he's very well endowed and especially gifted with his-"

"Alright!" the cop standing against the wall says, making a rather pleased look appear across your face. These men certainly didn't want to hear your retelling of another man's cock. 

"Don't ask questions you don't want the answers to." you snark back, drawing your lips together before taking the cup of tea. "Rather good brew." you say as they sit and stare.

"Thanks." the stout one responds. "I made it meself." he says as the other man knocks his arm at the softness and pride the man heard in his voice at a compliment coming from a woman. 

"Oh yeah? Cheers." you say, raising the cup before taking another drink.

"I think we're done for now. You wait here." the more cross looking of the two says as he yanks the arm of the sitting man and takes him outside the room. 

Your tea is long since finished before they come back in again. One standing in the doorway as the other motions a long arm towards his direction. "You're free to go."

"Oh thank you boys." you say gathering your coat and putting it back on. "Everything check out?" you ask with a polite and sweet face as you stretch before leaving the room, the men in front and behind you.

"Everything checked out with the Shelby's." he says with a tired voice.

"And what of Alfie? Should I be expecting him?"

"They're still talkin' to 'im." the shorter one says with a mumble, his head knocking back in the direction you came from. 

You hear raised voices come from down the hall. "I think shouting is a more apt description. You better not have been too rough on the old boy. He has a bad back you know." you pout, adjusting your fur collar and fluffing it with a prissy exterior as the two men looked at you with both annoyance and interest. 

"I'm sure he'll be fine." the taller says. "You can wait or he'll be released shortly. They've been at it all night." he says, his hand running down his face before he sighs with a groan and walks away. 

"You know Miss Durand. You seem like an intelligent lass. Why are you mixed up with Solomons, eh?"

"Because I love the man."

"Eh." he says with a shake of his head. "You don't seem like the type to led around by your heart. Most women break under interrogation. Not take it like it's gossip at high tea like you." he says with a huff of amusement. 

"Perhaps I can be both, yes?" you say with a smile and pat the man's arm. "Thank you for your time, sir." you say with a small bow and turn to walk out into the morning sun. 

It's breaking over the mountains, Ollie sitting on the hood of one of Alfie's car's as you emerge from the confines of the dark and musky station. 

"Oh Genevieve, are you alright?" Ollie asks, forgetting his place in the absence of Alfie and putting his hands to your shoulders.

"Quite alright, Ollie. Thank you. Any word on Alfie? They were still yelling at him last I heard." you say, rummaging through your purse for your mirror. 

"Nothing yet. Time's almost up on the hold though. So should be any time. We can take ya home or call another car. Whichever ya like."

"I think I'll stay and wait. I'd like it if he did the same for me." you say, using your gloves to wipe under your eyes, erasing the smeared makeup that was left as proof of your long night. "He'll probably want to go home after anyway. We'll save some petrol this way." you say dismissively, waving your hands as you snap the compact shut after fixing your makeup. 

"I can get you some food if you'd like?" he asks with genuine concern. "Thank you Ollie but I'll wait until I get home. I just had some tea in the station, I'll be fine." you pat his arm and move towards the car. "But I am rather knackered so I'm going to sit in the car to wait." you say with a lazy nod as he shuffled forward to open the door for you. "Any other news? Everything alright while we were in there?" you ask, settling into the seat and talking to Ollie as he had his weight against the side of the car. 

"Nothing that I've heard." he shrugs. "Closed up the club at the normal time. Everything was as usual, didn't want to cause a panic. Tried to kill any rumors with answering questions as people left. Just wanted to ask ya some questions in regard to a missing acquaintance we said."

"Not entirely a lie."

"Did they not ask ya that?" his head turns back to you.

"They did but they were really just casting a very wide net for anything. It was rather strange. The informant for the tip must've been right. They didn't know anything. Just knew that Prittance was missing."

"Was that his name?" Ollie asks.

"Yes. Best we don't say it again." you say with a long exhale. 

"Yes Miss. My apologies." he ducks his head and looks back to the doors of the station. 

"What's the time darling?" you ask, starting to nod off in the car. 

"Quarter eight, Miss." Ollie replies, his fingers fidgeting.

"My word. Alfie will be too old to bear children when he's released at this rate. Christ." you groan, slouching in the seat.

"Perhaps not." Ollie cheekily answers you quickly, rushing towards the doors as a roughed up Alfie appears. 

"Speak of the devil and he will appear." you say with a broad smile as you approach him with open arms. "My darling, they didn't fuss about you too much did they?" you ask with pouted lips as you take his face and kiss his cheeks. 

"Nah. Buncha twats, they are." he groans, rubbing his head before putting on his hat, his hair a right mess underneath. 

"Shall we go home?" you ask, taking his arm and rubbing his back. 

"Are you alright love?" he asks, looking closely at you with a furrowed brow.

"Oh quite alright. Not to worry, darling." you coo as you hold his hand.

"Good, that." he nods, grunting and resituating himself in the benched seat. "Take us home. Night's gone on bloody long enough." he says loudly with a shake of his hand. "Seems they called up your Shelby and after that, they didn't 'ave much else to say 'bout anyfing."

"Arthur? I did tell them he was around." you nod and snuggle into his arm, crossing your legs towards him as his splayed out, taking up most of the back seat. 

"Nah. The other prick." he grins.

"Tommy? Oh our Parliament boy?" you chuckle.

"'At's the one."

"Well it seems he's come in handy hasn't he?" you say with a hopeful sigh, patting Alfie's thigh before he takes your hand into his.

"Never thought I'd agree to that, yeah?" Alfie huffs out a coarse laugh.

"Looks as I've come in handy again for you Solomons." you reply defensively but with a smile.

"Ya always do, love." he says with a kiss to your forehead. A deep grunt, his muscles exhausted as he puts his arm around you and cuddles you close on the lengthy drive home.


	75. Just Like Heaven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genevieve hosts Passover Seder at her home with all her staff and their families. She goes to Alfie’s sisters to have Seder meal with his entire family. Will she find the family she’s been missing with the Solomons’? **Chapter song is Just Like Heaven by The Cure .**

In the midst of a room full of people, you have an introspective moment to yourself. Not only your dining room, which had been surrounded by a solid circle of mix-matched chairs to accommodate all the Jewish Families that surrounded it on this first Seder meal of Passover. You even brought in another table for their children to sit at to make sure everyone was included. As the children were an integral part of the holiday.

You had started planning this holiday meal weeks ago and had culminated that early morning with the burning of the chametz in the large fireplace in the kitchen. Then the people started to arrive. You had your girls who worked for you invite anyone they might have in their lives, the employees of Abeille and otherwise were to bring their entire families, extended and all to celebrate with you. You wanted to share the good fortune you’d been blessed with this past year and you thought giving back to those who helped you every day was a good start. You’d been blessed with record-breaking business profits, had the good fortune to travel and see old friends and Altar, you’d come out alive and still able-bodied after the violence against you and yours you’d endured. On the day of you found yourself most thankful for the man that had been tottering along beside you all day. The past year you had Alife intimately involved in your life and as you both managed the house as if it were jointly your own already, you couldn’t help but feel a spirit of true gratitude that encompassed the holiday itself.

You had all your rooms in your guest wing, both up and downstairs fitted with enough amenities to house the families for the night. You’d gone through the rituals and now had eaten and sang, read and recited and taught the children and now with full bellies, hearts, and minds everyone was in a lovely warm lull of conversation in the dining room after the final prayers of “"L'shanah haba'ah b'Yerushalayim! – Next year in Jerusalem!”

As the non-Jewish staff show the families into the drawing room and the sleepy children to the nursery you sit with Alfie at the head of the table in your tall-backed, ornate chairs. You’d pushed them arm to arm and you have stayed that way the entire evening. Currently, the women were scooping up children and fussing over them as they followed your girls up the stairs but you stayed by your love’s side. With your arm wrapped around his, your legs lazily crossed towards him, feeling the warm effects as the number of glasses of wine you’d had. Alfie was chatty and red-faced from the wine, his posture comfortable, legs spread wide in his chair as he laughed and gossiped with the other men. It seemed at first that there might be some tension, the appearance of a known gangster at a Passover Seder, but it was soon apparent he was there for the same reasons they were. His charisma overtook any hesitancy as it always could and everyone was put into a friendly state of mind as the rituals concluded and it was shown that both of you were, in fact, practicing and not only potentially bloodthirsty people of business. The men’s laughter, particularly Alfie’s so rough and loud was as warm as the recently fed fire to your left on the wall of the dining room. The dark night outside was a lovely backdrop for the orange and red hues dancing across the dimly lit room as it prepared to be put to bed, the same as it’s occupants.

“The misses and I will be retiring for the night.” Alfie announced loudly to a room of chattering people.

“I’ve been going all day and I must admit I am not the young woman I once was.” you say with a charming laugh. “So I’ll be stealing Mr. Solomons away with me, I’m afraid.” you smile broadly. “It was lovely meeting you all. I’ll be seeing you at breakfast in the morning. Shalom. Kol Tuv. (Peace. Be well.)”

“L'hitraot!” Alfie says with a wave as his hand rests on your back, seeing you out of the room first before making an endearing exit with a little bow that you found delightful.

“Of all my days I’ve seen this could possibly feel like the longest.” you say with a soft chuckle, moving to lift your dress and lightly kick your shoes off your feet. You begin to reach behind you to undo your dress when Alfie moves in behind you and takes your hands.

“It’s not over yet, chooki.(honey/sweetie)” he grins and kisses the backs of your hands. “Slip on those little fluffy slippers ya like so much ‘an follow me.” he says, placing the soft satin shoes at your feet and holding up your dress for you as you keep your eyes on his face, seeing the softness there that made your eyes want to tear with contentment as your painted toes fumbled with their place in the shoes.

He takes you by the hand, fingers interlaced fully as he tugs you into your study, up the secretive spiral stairs into your music room and stops before the double doors that lead out to the balcony. “Now here,” he says softly, putting his jacket around your shoulders. “Still a bit cold out, yeah? Not gonna have ya catchin’ somefin’ and not going to me own family’s Seder, eh?” he teases. His hands are gentle to your face as he pats it affectionately before taking you out onto the balcony. “Couldn’t pass up an opportunity with a moon like 'is on a clear night could I?” he says as if it’s obvious as you reposition his coat on your body as it lay heavy and large.

“It is lovely. What’s the occasion?” you ask with a tilted head and eyes reflecting a moon and innocence in the way you looked at him.

He sighs, taking your hands into his as you wait patiently for him. He wanted to commemorate the night in a special way and he’d found just that while he was at his oldest sisters house a few weeks back. “You being a perfect hostess,” he says with a dip of his chin and a smile that still made your knees weak when it was directed at you. “You were the portrait of a matriarch tonight, love. Utterly stunnin’. Both in appearance and behavior.” he says dramatically, his head moving back and forth, squeezing your hands in his large, warm ones. “I wanted to ease any lingering worry you might 'ave 'bout how you did tonight. You’ve been such a mess about it.” he chuckles. “But I believe the wine and your exemplary performance might’ve taken away the last of the nerves you were holdin’ onto, eh?” he grins and kisses your cheek.

“The wine did help.” you laugh and smile. “But you being there helped more.” you coo and wrinkle your nose affectionately at him.

“And I will always be there to ease your busy bee of a mind, yeah?” he says, stepping in closer and giving a soft nod of his forehead against yours. “You have shown me tonight that any doubts, no matter how small they may be, yeah? Any doubts that I might’ve had about bein’ with a Jewish woman, about bein’ wif you, were the most utterly ridiculous things to ever pass me mind. 'N I’ve had some bloody ridiculous fings moving 'round in this 'ol head as you well know.” he gives you a playful smile you return in full. “But I was a man who only knew certainty in one part of me life before you. 'N 'at was how I could react to fings. I had nuffin’ I knew for certain beyond meself.” he pauses and nods his chin your way. “But then there’s you, eh?” he let’s go of your hands and takes you into his arms slowly as he speaks. His hands giving you a squeeze around your torso before one large, bejeweled hand moves to cup your cheek. “A man craves certainty dunnit he? And when it comes to you I have more certainty in how I feel 'bout you than I do anyfing else in me life. I know I love you, yeah? And I know you love me. 'N 'at’s all a man needs in this world innit? Love of a good woman to keep him straight. Give him a purpose beyond the material. And Genny love, my perfect little Channah…” he sighs and the subtle but moving smile on his lips makes your heart thump in your chest. The moon casting blue shadows across your faces, feeling the warmth radiating from his body blocking out the cold of the still night air around you as you stood on your stone balcony overlooking the gardens. “I 'ave only ever truly loved two women in my life. That’d be me mum,” he gives a supportive nod to his own statement, “And you.” he says with pouted lips, a gentle press of his full lips to your forehead, leaving a warmness that tingled down to your toes as he circled behind you. “'N 'is.” he says pulling out a simple diamond necklace. “Belonged to me mum.” he says, the diamond sparkling in its newly polished setting in the moonlight as it dangled in front of your face as he brought it down around your neck. You felt his square tipped fingers latching it shut behind you. The countless nights of him undressing you slowly, taking off your jewelry piece by piece for you before bed had served him well as your mane of hair no longer was an obstacle he didn’t know how to work around. “'N I fink she would love for you to have it. As much as I would. And after tonight it only makes sense that it finds it’s new home around a new powerful and strong Jewish woman’s neck. 'N that’d be you, love.” he finishes, eyes looking down at your delicate and touched expression as tears threaten to fall from his sweet words. Your fingers are light against the stone. A simple rounded stone, not tiny and not large. Something modest and beautiful to serve as a reminder of where he came from to both of you.

“Ari, darling.” you whisper, the stone glittery in your fingers as you looked at it. “It’s gorgeous.”

“Had her polished and reset, yeah? Cleaned her up and got a new chain for ya.” he explains, his strong and masculine looking fingers with their callouses and hair and broken nails serve a stark contrast against the frail beauty of the thin gold chain. “I know it’s not as grand as you’re used to but-”

“Don’t even think it.” you say, your eyes shooting up fast to meet his as you shake your head. “It’s perfect.” you say quietly, moving to wrap your arms around his neck and meet him in a gentle kiss. “This night was perfect. You’re perfect. You’ve given me everything a girl could want Ario. Love and certainty.” you whisper against his lips. “Protection and support.” you kiss him again. “It is humble… and as we should be together as well. For we can’t take for granted or scorn the sort of gifts we’ve been given can we? We’re too blessed to be greedy now. Our lives together are different than they were apart. Just as they should be. Together we’re powerful, but let it serve as a reminder to always be humble. As we both know what it’s like to have nothing.” you say with your fingers lightly in his fluffy beard. The wrinkles in the corner of his eyes are settled now in his tiredness and content he feels at your words and actions. A peace he had long felt he didn’t deserve but now knew he had because of you. If he didn’t deserve it for all the things he’d done, he would gladly be the man to give you what you deserved. And he thought you deserved the world.

“And without you I have nothing.” he whispers back, hands mingling together with timid fingers against each other’s faces and bodies as you interlock your lips in a passionate wordless display of your love for each other. “And because of that… let’s get us to bed, yeah? Not gonna lose ya to the bloody cold now am I?” he grins, a soft kiss full of lip and whisker against your cheek and neck as he pulls his jacket around you tighter, his arm across your small shoulders, shielding you from the very chill he was fearful of.

——  
Your eyes are downturned and unblinking. Alfie was pretty sure you hadn’t blinked since getting in the car. He saw your nails fidget over each other, the way you would be so lost in thought you’d forget to breathe for a moment and have to take a deep breath. He was now expert in reading all your nervous signs and he knew there would be plenty tonight.

“Love?” he says with a subtle shake of his head, reaching out and patting at your hands. “Stop that now. Ya actin’ like you’re goin’ to be interrogated.” he lets out an amused chuckle.

“Well I am in some capacity aren’t I?” you say, turning your head with pursed lips of offense taken his way.

He opens his mouth to form a rebuttal but closes it instead, shrugging and looking away. You weren’t wrong.

“This just-”

“Means a lot. I know, pet.” he says with a sigh, reaching out and taking your hand this time. “But you look lovely, and you are lovely. I have no doubts they’ll be perfectly acceptin’ of ya dear. If they put up wif me, why wouldn’t they want someone as hospitable as you, eh?”

“I’ll be fine once I’m there. I’ll put my confident face over my nervous one.” you say with a nod of your head. “My word how did you stay so calm meeting Altar?” you let out a laugh that surprises him.

“Well I wunnit.” he lets out an amused hum.

“Not to speak poorly of your family at all but I believe Altar would be far more intimidating than anyone you’ve got waiting for me at your sisters.” you say with a smile.

“You haven’t met my nephew.” he laughs.

“Your nephew? Who is he?”

“You’ll know 'em when ya see 'im.” he grins. “But he’s harmless really. Well to you anyway.”

“What do you mean to me?” your eyes narrow.

“Well, he boxes for me. Good lad. Not undefeated but he is a beast.”

“If he has you overseeing him I have no doubt.” you say with your usual sweet charm back, giving his chin an affection scratch as you forget for a moment that you’re about to meet your future in-laws.  
——-

“What a darling house.” you say standing and waiting for Alfie to finish grunting as he stretches his legs and adjusts his coat.

“Yeah me sister didn’t want it until she saw it.” he laughs.

“Didn’t want it?” you ask with a tilt of your head.

“I bought it for her.” he says with an obvious tone. “Got all the loons houses after their husbands passed in the war.” he says holding out his arm for you to take as you ascend the short case of stone stairs up to the masonry home,

“You are the sweetest man.” you coo, beaming up at him.

“You said it yaself, real estate’s an easy way to hide money innit?” he winks and gives you a cheeky grin.

“Hide your kindess, darling.” you laugh and give his strong arm a smooch through his jacket before he holds his hand in front of the large red door.

“Ready? Ya look good. Ya beautiful as always but approachable.” he gives you a reassuring nod.

“Ready.” you say with a smile, feeling oddly calm. You hear the voices of a large family inside and you take a deep breath. This is what you’d been wanting for years now. A family to come to, children and elders and brothers and sisters to bicker and gossip with. Alfie was giving you that, bringing you into his. This was the beginning of a new chapter in your life. One with a close family.  
——

“SHALOM!” a man dressed in a similar fashion to Alfie answers the door, older with far more white in his hair that’s worn as unkempt as Alfie’s was when you first met him.

“SHALOM, Uncle.” he says as the man comes at him with wide arms that encase him in a hug that makes Alfie let out an uncomfortable grunt.

“We never see you anymore! Only at holidays! I’m an old man and you are the last of Peninah’s boys, I should be seeing you more!” he exclaims, holding his face and giving it a firm pat before even noticing you. “And who is THIS?!” he says with a face that lit up like a firework at the possibilities of who you might be.

“This is my darling Genevieve Durand.” he says proudly, a strong hand to your back as he presents you to the enthusiastic man.

“WHO IS IT?” a woman’s voice comes from behind the man.

“It it little Ari and he has BROUGHT A WOMAN!” he says loudly before he begins laughing.

“A WHAT?!” a chorus of voices comes from inside the warmth of the house.

“Not all of 'em knew you’s comin’.” he says quietly in your ear as a gaggle of women approach.

“Oh dear.” you say with a nervous smile.

“Oh and a lovely one at that!” one says pushing the uncle out of the way and moving to take your hands. “And who are you? Come! Come!” she says pulling you into the home and taking your coat.

“I’m Genevieve Durand. Shalom, chag sameach (happy fesitval).” you say as they eyeball you and you politely nod time and time again with your greetings to each.

“Let me see her!” a loud booming woman’s voice comes from around the corner. As soon as you saw her you knew she had to be one of Alfie’s sisters. She was a broad woman, older than him with the same dark gingery hair and full lips. “Oh!” she says with a pleased smile. “I knew to capture the old hound’s heart she’d have to be a vision and she is!” she says embracing you in a hug that makes your stomach flutter with the unconditional affection you were receiving. You didn’t know what to expect out of the Solomons family but it was clear that love was in no short supply.

“And in mother’s necklace.” a woman younger than the first, with bright ginger hair and a sweet round face, a baby in her arms. “I was so excited to hear Ari finally found himself someone. And he did not sell your beauty short. You have that man under your thumb, love.” she laughs and hugs you with one arm. “Where’s Sarah? She’s not believed that he’d bring someone.” she laughs.

“Ya gonna scare her off.” he laughs, bringing you in close to his side.

“Nonsense! If she can handle you she can handle us.” the older one says.

“This is Matilda.” Alfie motions towards the red-haired woman with the baby in her arms. “The baby.” he says with a quick pinch of her chin. “And that old mare is Rachel.” he laughs as she shoves him before giving his cheek a hard pinch.

“I’m older than him so he has to listen to me. This is why he’s such a little boy who throws around insults.” she says with an amused nod of her head.

“Oh my word she is real.” the middle sister, still older than Alfie comes into view. She has beautiful but tired blue eyes like his and the same strong nose. Her dark hair is worn up and is falling along the edges, presumably from cooking as she wears an apron with stains smudged on it over her dress.

“I am.” you say with a soft chuckle.

“Bless you for putting up with our Ari for us!” she laughs and embraces you. “Mind the apron love wouldn’t want to dirty up that lovely dress.” she gets out quickly, pushing her hips away from you. “You were Genny correct?”

“You may call me Gen if you wouldn’t mind. Ari is the only one that won’t stop calling me Genny.” you laugh with a bashful bow of your head. “But if you’d prefer, call me Chanah. It is my given name by my mother.”

“A strong and pretty name for a woman of the same qualities.” she remarks. “The boy never listens does he?” she grins with a knowing smile. “And calling him Ari. How precious are you too?”

“Oh my apologies. I suppose I got comfortable fast with you.” you smile. “What with how everyone’s been so nice and welcoming.”

“Love, our little brother has never brought a woman home. Let alone giving her our mother’s necklace. To me you’re married already. So welcome to the family, Chanah. Chanah Solomons. Does have a nice sound to it methinks.” she laughs and bops Alfie’s nose.

“Our upcoming engagement is merely a formality as far as I’m concerned. Treat her as one of us. I do.” he beams proudly and kisses the side of your head. “We are only not betrothed because I must find a means grand enough to propose to this perfect woman. She deserves the stars and I am finding a way to pull them from the sky for her.” he laughs and it makes you blush.

“Ugh! And to make him speak so sweet!” the youngest Matilda swoons.

“Then Chanah, welcome!” Rachel says happily. “Let us go to the kitchen, eh? Let him get interrogated by the men so they won’t embarrass you too much, yeah?” she smiles and puts her hand to your back to move you down the hall.

“See you in a bit, love.” he says with a wink. “Don’t be too honest wif 'em 'bout me, eh?” he laughs as the large hands of the male family members move to pat him on the back and yank him into the other room.  
———–  
Alfie is certainly interrogated as he’s sat down in the middle of the worn couch with its almost threadbare arms surrounded by his curious family. An amused look on his nephew Goliath’s face as he sees his uncle being forced to undergo a downpour of questions.

“We met at a club and worked together.” he’d answer. “She helped me out when me house caught fire, remember 'at?” he tried to explain. “It just sorta happened. As it does, yeah? What was I supposed to do? Say no to a rich, smart, beautiful woman who for some reason, bless her, wanted to be wif me?” he laughs.

“And you love her. I can tell.” the oldest man says, giving his beaming approval to the last bachelor of his group finally finding his match.

“I do, yeah.” he nods with his lips pursed.

“And will she be joining us soon? A little Misses Alfred Ari Solomons?” he chuckles.

“Wifin the month.” he says with a confident nod and the smattering of celebratory applause

“Then may she say yes and all your endeavors together be fruitful! Bring us many more children and another strong woman into our family. For it takes a strong one to deal with us Solomons’.” he raises a glass and those who have one follow suit. “L'chaim!” they all call out.

“You got yourself a pretty one Uncle.” one of his teenage nephews says, walking in from the kitchen where you’d been sequestered. “I’ve read about her in the papers. She’s got right large… assets dunnit she?” he lets out a snorting laugh as Alfie reaches out and smacks the side of his head.

“Abe, boy watch yourself. You may think you have to worry 'bout me hearin’ that talk but that woman’ll kill y if she hears it.” he says with a wagging finger and a smirk. If only he knew he was being entirely serious.

In a kitchen you did not know your way around you were holding plates up high to avoid the darting children that kept running around with no forewarning. You were flattered they let you help set up the table. They didn’t know you but were placing faith in you that you knew what you were doing and luckily for you, you had done this just the day before.  
The meal goes by without a hitch. You knew the words to the prayers and songs, and except for your amateur understanding of the older men speaking Yiddish and Hebrew amongst each other, you couldn’t have been clocked for anything other than a born and raised Jewish woman.

The four cups of wine once again have you feeling floating and unconcerned as you and Alfie both answer questions as they come. He holds your hand and affectionately rests his arm across the back of your chair through the conversation after the meal. The children are put to bed, most carried and some of the extended family left as the little ones were worn out from the festivities. Alfie offers to help carry already snoozing babies from upstairs as you stand back and let the family fall into their obviously well-practiced exit strategy as you stand back and take a moment to take in the photos on the walls.

The section of the hallway with the half table covered in flowers with candles and very old and worn photographs in nice frames holds your attention. A boy who so much resembled Alfie in a uniform sat among a scattering of faces, some who were barely legible. A couple, a broad and strong man with a beard and a stern face sits next to a woman who has a sweet round face like Matilda. You guessed these were his parents. He really did resemble his father, all the children did. The Solomons have strong genes it seemed and you give a sad smile to the photo of his brother you’d never meet, forever memorialized as young and powerful with the same brightness in his eyes that you saw in Alfie’s when he would allow himself to really be amused by something. You wonder what sort of empire there could’ve been if his brother had lived. But then again, who knows how he would’ve come back from the war, you knew Alfie was certainly different than when he had left. You see his uniformed picture hanging on the wall next to group photos of him and his siblings as children. At each bar and bat mitzvah reciting they stand with their mouths open. Young Alfie looking so darling and sweet you reach out to touch the photo of him in his Captain’s uniform. He looked like he belonged to have a uniform to show his importance, you hadn’t thought you’d like it as it reminded you of your brother and all the trouble he had coming back home. But Alfie was too beautiful and strong to dislike in your eyes. It was clear one was taken before and one after the war. A common uniform in the first with a baby face and clean shaven. His eyes were open and his back straight, the naivety only youth can give in his soft face. The other was closer to as he was now. Posture not as strong, brow low and hard with the wear shown in his tired eyes and bearded face. You glance over the collage of photographs, your mind can’t help but wonder what your children might look like. As your fingertips touch his delicate face from his youth you’re startled out of your fantasies of your son looking just as handsome as his father one day.

“I’m afraid I 'on’t look quite as charming clean shaven nowadays.” he laughs, coming up and wrapping his arm around your waist.

“Nonsense.” you say withdrawing your hand.

“But ya like ya men to look like just 'at, yeah? Like men.” he says playfully, nudging his nose against your hair.

“Manly men.” you giggle. “Ones that look like you.” you smile and kiss his cheek. “Jewish men who say lovely things about me to their sisters.” you add with a dip of your chin.

“Ah. I shouldn’t 'ave given 'em the ammo to use against me. Now I’m gonna be Mrs. Durand next time they see me.” he laughs.

“Maybe I’ll be Mrs. Solomons next time I see them.” you give a cheeky grin.

“I believe 'at you will, pet.” he says with a sweet but lingering kiss.

“All this wine and talk of marriage and babies has me feeling all amorous, darling. Are we to leave soon?” you ask with a soft voice.

“I was comin’ to gather ya to do just 'at.” he nods and wraps his arms around your back to bring you to his side to walk down the hall.

“Everyone finks ya just lovely ya know. But of course, they do.”

“I’m relieved. They were so welcoming. I’ve never been around such warm people.”

“You’ve not been around YOUR people sweetheart. And ya are now. Ya one of us. We take care of our own.”

“I think they would’ve been happy to see you with anyone what with how they spoke of your bachelorhood.”

“Well ya innit wrong.” he shrugs. “But they also know now of your work like ya told 'em. Ya own business, home, and money. And ya clearly smart and well-read. I couldn’t have done better for meself if I’d hired one of 'em match makers what my mum always insisted upon.”

“Only in that circumstance am I glad you didn’t listen to her.”

“Me uncles was talkin’ 'bout how lovely ya looked in her necklace. Almost like she was here again they said. She had the same dark hair like you 'ave ya seen?”

“I saw a picture of her in the hallway I believe.”

“Was she wif an angry man what looked like me?” he grins.

“She was.”

“Then 'at’s her.” he chuckles.

“I can’t wait to have our portrait made. We can pose just like them and since I have a vague resemblance to her it’ll be a lovely sentiment. Like proof that the generations are moving forward and still holding onto their past.”

“You sure you stopped at four glasses 'a wine love?” he teases. “Ya talkin’ all poetic on me.”

“I did. I’m a good Jewish woman. I’m not supposed to drink after.”

“'At you are love. My perfect little Chanah.” he whispers in your ear as you reach the door and he puts on your coat, waiting for his sisters to say goodbye as they put their own children to bed. “I 'ave been instructed by the elders to go forth and be fruitful I must warn ya. I 'on’t know what you’d like to get into this evenin’ love but all this pride over ya has got me knowing exactly what it is I wanna get into.” he gives a cheeky growl as he reaches down to pinch your bum.

“Ari!” you giggle as he plants a noisy kiss on your cheek.

“Oh look at 'em!” Rachel coos. “You two go and get out. Make me some nieces and nephews.” she laughs as she kisses both yours and Alfie’s cheeks. “Next time I see you I’ll be calling you sister. And I’ll be proud to do it, love.” she says squeezing your hands. “You keep little Ari in line for me, yeah?”

“I’ll do my best.” you say as he keeps his hand firm on your behind.

“Let me go 'ave me fun Rachel. I’ll be by. You’ll see us at Temple now, yeah? At least 'is 'n. You’ll know her face and can make sure she reads off everything proper.” he teases.

“I’ll pray for you to have the strength to deal with him.” she laughs as she sees you out the door.

“Lovely meal and chag seamach! Thank you for having me.”

“Shalom sweetie! Goodnight!” she says closing the door.

“Now my little misses. You been properly introduced. And we’re sloshing wif wine and all this talk of family has this old man feelin’ some sort of way.” he laughs his hand snaking down to cup your breast as his arm slides across your shoulders, bringing you in close. “How’s 'bout a kiss 'til we get home, eh? Like a couple 'a snoggin’ young fings, yeah? Get you good 'n ready for me when we get in?” his hand moves firm on your chest with his other hand bringing up your chin to meet your lips together.

“I’ve seen the young pictures of you now, Ari. I’m certainly anxious to see what your sons will look like now. Let’s not let the family down, yes? We need to make sure we know how best to be fruitful for when we’re married. Practice makes perfect doesn’t it?” you giggle as his eyes glaze over, his plush lips brushing against yours as you speak in a quiet and girlish way to him in the dark of the car.

“You don’t need no practice, love. Ya already perfect innit?” he purrs, his lips gentle against your lower lip, taking his time.

“You already have me won, Ari, just take your prize.” you insist with a wrinkle of your nose. A command he gladly follows, your lips finding one another’s enthusiastically and for the entire duration of the ride home.


	76. You've Got The Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfie's Birthday Party.  
> Genevieve's plans a lovely and humble (for her anyway) celebration of her favorite man. But little does she know she isn't the only one that has their own plans for the evening.  
> Song is You've Got The Love by Florence + The Machine.

Genevieve’s pointed leather heels kick up dust along the well walked pathway towards Alfie's office. The navy shoes in their cool tone set apart from the sepia-toned expanse of dirt and wood as the employees of her future husband, the formidable gangster Alfie Solomons politely bowed their heads in greeting as they dare not do anything that could be read as anything but. A trip to Solomons office for even the bravest of men was a nerve-racking experience. But for Genevieve, it was always a journey of excitement and delight. This trip was no different.

She dusts her flowing, floral spring dress as she stops just short of bumping into Alfies second, Ollie. The tall and always slightly nervous looking young man had a curious bead of sweat on his brow as his body language gave away his hesitancy for her unannounced appearance.

“Bonjour Ollie darling!” She greets with a very pleasant smiling face, an envelope clutched in her hand over the small purse she carries that matched her shoes. She did always look very put together, and most always the opposite of her love Alfie as his appearance, particularly when he was at work. He was unkempt and old fashioned at best. She had brought many new things into his life but a complete shift in his wardrobe wasn’t one of them.

Ollie as always enjoyed hearing the sweet melodic greeting of his boss’s charming love interest, but not even his fondness for laying eyes on her could distract him from his anxieties as she cheerfully trotted towards Alfie's office door.

“Shalom Miss Durand.” He sputters with darting eyes and a face that only half turns to her as it nervously glances to the half glass door she could hear Alfie shouting from. He’s relieved when she takes a few steps back as he approaches her with outstretched arms.

“I DONT FUCKIN CARE IF ITS THE BLOODY QUEEN WHAT NEEDS SEEIN' TO MATE!” Alfies gruff and almost slurred thick Camden accent in its usual loud and booming delivery makes its way through the wooden door to their ears.

“Oh.” Genevieve says with puckered, painted lips, her dark brown eyes wide and understanding of the man before her and his unwelcoming body language.

“Yeah he’s uh...” Ollie stutters.

“YEAH 'N I FUCKIN' PAID YOU YEAH? NO ONE ELSE,FUCKIN YOU!”

“Poor man.” She sighs. “His birthday and he still can’t enjoy himself.” She tsks and opens her mouth to speak but his words interrupt her.

“YEAH 'N IF I DONT FUCKIN' 'AVE IT BY NOON, RIGHT? I 'ONT CARE HOW MUCH FUCKIN' MONEY I PAID YOU I'LL FUCKIN' SHOOT YOU! DO YOU UNDERSTAND? EITHER IT IS IN MY HAND AND PERFECT OR YOU WILL BE FUCKIN' CUT INTO LITTLE PIECES 'N NO ONE WILL EVER FIND YA MATE!”

“He’s going to die from a heart attack before the party.” She shakes her head and shrugs. “I apologize if he’s been poorly to you Ollie. I know a party isn’t really his sort of thing and he’s probably well miffed about it.” She responds apologetically. “He seemed rather pleasant this morning.” She reflects thoughtfully with a slight tilt of her head, her half pulled back hair shifting as she did so, the ends of it swishing across her lower back as she shakes her head out of the thought. “But maybe he’s only saving face because he knows I love a good party. Bless the poor lad.” Her hand rests on her ample chest that was still noticeable even in the humble neckline of her pink and blue floral dress. “I’m afraid I have one more thing to add to your to-do list today Ollie.”

“PISS OFF!” Alfie's voice interrupts again, hearing his hand hit the top of his desk.

Gen sighs and continues on despite the usually charming deep gruff she experienced from the man being replaced with a rather unpleasant gravelly growl full of threat. “I need you to put this envelope in his desk for me, please. It’s extremely important and no one, including you sees what’s inside. Trust me.” She hands the envelope to Ollie who’s shaking hands tentative lift to meet it between them. He takes it, looking at the sealed folder with question as it slides from her manicured fingers. “After he leaves put it-“

 

“WHAT PART OF I WILL FUCKIN' KILL YOU DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND?”

Unphased she continues, “Put it in his desk where he will find it. No one else but he needs to see what’s in it. It’s important.” She said a stern nod of her head. “Put it in your jacket and keep it a secret from him and place it after he’s gone.”

“May I ask what’s in it?” Ollie cautiously asks.

“It’s for his birthday. It’s from me. It’s a letter and a gift and I want him to find it when he comes into work tomorrow. I want it to be a surprise.”

“Oh.” He says with a quick nod and slides it into his pocket. “I can certainly do that Miss. No worries.” He gives her a polite smile.

“What the fuckin' hell are you doin here love?” Alfie's voice without the door blocking it comes unfiltered to both their ears as it makes Ollie jump and Gen perks up and almost floats over to him at the sound. She must be the only person that responded that way to hearing that tone from the man Ollie estimates.

“I wanted to see if everything was on schedule for you to come home early.” Her voice is soft and sweet as her hands move across the gritty and rough fabric of his shirt that was in a loose style that made him look far older than he was.

“Ya don't know how to use a fuckin' phone now?” He laughs.

“I had to come to town to pick up a few things for tonight and I wanted to see the birthday boy.” She bats her lashes and leans into his chest, giving a peck to his chin as she does a little lift to reach him.

“Who?” He laughs heartily and leans in to kiss her on the lips.

“Don’t be daft now, Alfie.” She sways her head and beams at him.

“Don’t know no boys I’m afraid mate. Only know old, old fuckin' men yeah?”

“Wel lucky for you I happen to love me a cheeky old man hmmm?” She chuckles and he grumbles as she coaxes another kiss out of him. Ollie watches the display of affection, which was nothing new for him to see but the softness he showed to Gen always caught him off guard.

“I’m the luckiest old bastard in all of England love.” He says with a quieter voice as he hums into another affectionate kiss from the small dark-haired woman who held his heart in her painted, soft, deadly but well-manicured hands.

“Maybe you will be tonight after the party.” She giggles against his full lips and he lets out a single loud laugh of amusement for her cheekiness.

“It IS me birthday.” He shoots a charming grin her way as she steps back and gives his chin an adoring squeeze.

“Oh is it?” She chuckles.

“Ah ya silly bird. Get on wif ya now. I gotta work to afford to pay for ‘is party.” He teases.

“I’ll see you at three darling?” She says, stepping away but her hands still holding his shirt.

“Yes, you will pet. Now I do ‘ave to get caught up so I can leave dunnit I? So you go and get ready and I’ll be in later. On time. Promise.”

“Alright darling.” She coos, stealing another kiss from the older man.

“Love you Ari. Happy Birthday.” She chirps.

“Love you too Genny bee now get on.” He says giving her bum a little pat that she acts offended by but she giggles and tucks her hair behind her ear as she quickly trots away back down the corridor.

Alfie watches her leave with fondness in his eyes. He saunters towards Ollie, his broad and more experienced shoulders turning faster than the younger and taller man could comprehend as he grabs him by the shirt collar after knocking him in the stomach after he’s sure Genevieve is out of sight.

“Did she fuckin hear anyfin'?” He growls into the younger man’s face. So close he could feel the spit leave his lips as he demanded an answer.

“No.” He whimpers out, avoiding Alfies intense steely blue gaze.

“Then you should make sure ya go to temple then eh? Because you got real fuckin lucky dinnit ya?” He says with a taunt to his voice as he lets him go roughly, shoving him backward a few steps. “If you’d gone and let her hear me plans I would’ve killed you along with this fuckin twat of a jeweler.”

“She didn’t. I swear it.” He stays slightly hunched with a hand over his stomach as he rapidly shakes his head back and forth.

“Well, then what’s wrong lad? Stand up, we got fings to do! It’s me birthday! Didn’t ya know?” He asks with a hard slap to Ollie’s back as he turns and moves back into his office.

\----------

Genevieve sits with glistening freshly oiled skin on the end of a sweeping, velvet canopy bed. Her pink silk dressing gown a sweet contrast to the black curtains that surrounded the bed and the windows on either side. Behind her rests a previously disgruntled Cyril. The poor pup didn’t care much for the new people and movement in the house while everyone readied for the party. Gen had taken some of Alfie's shirts and laid them on the bed for him to have a cuddle and settle down and it had worked. She sits leisurely stroking the large brown slobbering sweetie as he snorts into a sleep shirt of his owners.

Alfie enters into the room, the attention of his two favorite creatures sitting on the bed now focused on him. Cyril tail thumps loudly against the duvet and if Gen had a tail it’d be doing much the same. “Aren’t you two just precious?” He says throwing his jacket onto the same chair by the desk that he always does. “Ya havin’ a cuddle without me?” He asks, grunting and sitting on the edge of the bed as Cyril slides on his stomach towards him to greedily receive his head pets from his favorite human.

“He was missing his papa. With all the noise in the house he's been upset poor baby.” Gen coos, stroking the beasts back as Alfie take his face into both his hands.

“Ya like me innit ya? Don’t like all these people 'round do ya? Two old men need their peace dunnit they?” His lips pooch out as he skirts on the line of baby talk with the snorting dog as it licks his palms.

“I gave him some of your shirts to lay on and he’s been a good boy while I bathed.” She says with an affection tone.

“‘Ats cause he is a good boy innit ya Cyril?” He coos and lets the dog put his head in his lap where he quickly shuts his eyes.

“I have your suit pressed and hung for you darling. No rush of course, it’s still hours 'til the party. We can’t all be as fortunate to be as handsome as you and only require a quick comb and new suit and be public ready.” Gen teases, giving him a kiss to his temple.

“I know it’s me birthday but ya don’t gotta lie to me.” He chuckles.

“Shush.” She scolds with a tap to his strong nose. "Come and have a look at it." she says, her confident stride dragging the long gown behind her, cinched at her waist tightly and only accentuating her curves. There were plenty of up and downsides of dating a baker, and for Alfie, the softness she'd put on since they'd been together was an up side in his opinion. She'd been such a slight thing when they'd first met, hip bones and ribs just under the surface of her warm toned skin. But now her hips matched the swell of her chest, her thighs a perfect soft frame for the black hair that rests between them under a soft stomach with no protruding bones in sight. Only a real-life illustration of a woman with curves he'd seen as a young man that had most likely sparked puberty within him.

"It's a suit, love, why I gotta look at it?" his usual cantankerous grumble comes out.

"Because it's the first of your birthday gifts, darling." she says with an authoritative tone, one hand moving to her hip, her painted nails tapping against the arch of pink satin underneath it.

"A gift? Ya buy me a suit? I got plenty of 'em, Genny." he says with a less angry tone, toeing off his shoes and giving Cyril a good ruffle between his ears before moving towards her with a sigh heavy in his chest.

"No. It's from Freddie actually." she says with a more charming smile, removing the protective covering she'd been keeping it in her closet.

"Oh! Ol' Fred's at it again, eh? What is it? A chartruese three-piece with coattails?" he chuckles, amusing only himself as Genevieve gently handles the soft fabric.

"No, silly." she says with a shake of her head, presenting it to him. A lovely soft fabric in black for the coat and trousers, the inside a silken sapphire blue with a matching vest.

"Well this innit bad at all." he says with pursed lips in consideration for the good taste the usually flashy best friend of Genevieve's had.

"The buttons are all solid gold and look like little old coins." she says excitedly. "Touch it, darling, it'll feel fantastic on your skin." she says hanging it on the handle of the armoire. He does as is suggested as he uses the back of his still dirty hand, still smudged from work on the other side. He nods in consideration, thankful the two hellions had, in fact, kept his preferences in mind while making this for him.

"It is rather nice." he mutters, examining the little gold buttons.

"And there's also this. He designed the suit and we both decided on these." she says, returning with hurried feet in her little maribou tipped slippers as she holds a square velvet box open to him. Inside rest two sapphire cuff links with gold bases.

"Now 'is. 'Is is well good." he says taking the box from her hands. "This is lovely innit?" he says more cheerfully, holding the box in one hand and pulling her close with the other. She's rewarded with an affectionate kiss to the temple. "I am more than pleasantly surprised love. Well chuffed 'bout it." his more charming and smooth voice comes out as he beams down a smile that makes her slump and gaze up at him with adoring eyes.

“Very glad to hear it. I’m happy you like them, he had them made for me so they’d match the fabric exactly.” She says with a precise annunciation as she taps the deep blue vest with one pointed finger.

“Thank you my most thoughtful flower. I’ll wear it all with pride tonight.” He says politely, placing the box on top of the dresser for later.

“Perhaps you’ll use one of my other gifts for you tonight.” She says with a mischievous smile as she moves away towards her closet.

“More? And what would that be?” He asks with a dipped chin her way.

“I’ll give them to you before the party.” She says with a playful shake of her head. “Right now I need to throw something on to go do rounds to check everything.” She says as she holds the archway into her large closet, body posed as she speaks.

“I can do it for ya love. I’m sure you’d rather take ya time gettin' ready, yeah?” He says adjusting his shirt before shuffling over to his side of the bed to slide on his slippers.

“There’s a list on the desk. Just finalizing that everyone is where they should be really.” She says dismissively. “I was going to do it with Ags.”

“I can do it. Let me have some part in this party.” He grins. “Aggie can help me. She could handle it herself the old girl.”

“She could but you know how particular I am.”

“'N 'ats why I'd be a good man for the job, eh?” He says convincingly as he looks over the list written down in her dramatic and looped handwriting.

“Thank you darling. I appreciate it. I’ve been hopping about like a little rabbit all day with this party planning I’d love a little rest so I could have a nice time dancing tonight.”

“Then have yaself a little lie down yeah? I’ve got this.” He says shaking the paper in the air.

“You’re a lovely and thoughtful man Alfie.” She falls out affectionately.

“Now what I’d say 'bout lying on me birthday?” He shouts out in his usual gruff tone but she knows he’s only teasing. What she didn’t know was his ulterior motives for wanting to speak to the hired staff.

“There’s just the girl I was looking for!” Alfie booms in a warm voice as he sees Aggie fussing over flowers.

“There's the birthday boy!” She says with a face that beams only happiness his way. She grabs him by his cheeks and give him a sturdy pat and shake. “Gen is in her room I believe.”

“I know I’ve already spoken to her, thank you.” He gives her a curt nod. “But I actually needed to speak with you for a moment.” He says dipping his voice low.

“I’m all ears.” She chirps with her eyes hidden by rounded flushed cheeks.

“May we do so in private?” He asks with a gentlemanly disposition, his hand to her upper back as he shows her towards his study.

“Of course.” Her tone shoes her worry. A turn to her words Alfie was very used to hearing by now. “Is something the matter?” She whispers with large eyes that follow him as he moves to shut the door to his study behind him. He moves into the wooden, red and golden decorated room with its large bay windows and intimidatingly sized dark stained desk in front of them. He sits he list down as he rests on the edge.

“Nothing is the matter.” He says with a swipe of his hand. “I just needed you to be privy to my plans tonight and now was an ideal time to discuss them.” He clears his throat and lifts his chin high in a proud stance with his arms crossed. “You’ll want to sit Agatha.” He adds with a grin.

Her face still reading worried dispute his reassurance, he studies her as her fingers fidget, hands clasped in her lap as she lowers herself into one of the plush leather chairs in front of the desk.

“I need you to promise to keep ya voice down, yeah?” He says leaning forward slightly. “Because you’re going to want to make noise when I tell you this and I need to keep it a secret, right? I’d hate to have it at all ruined this close to the party wouldn’t I?” He speaks to her as if he were a child. Under normal circumstances, he would be much more respectful to dear old Agatha as she was the glue that held the house together but he knew her well enough to know she would squeal like a pig once he shared his news.

Aggie answers by turning a pretend key by her mouth and tossing it away, making Alfie chuckle, eye wrinkling at the corners with fondness for the woman who took care of him and Genevieve without complaint.

“Tonight I have some plans of my own in place after the birthday party she has planned, right? I’ve gone over with the band and the florist and everyfin' is set. Now's all’s left is you.” He says with raised brows. He moves to grab the matching chair to the one Aggie sits in, turning it towards her and taking both her hands into his after settling with a grunt from both him and the leather seat. “Tonight. After everyone clears out from the party. Which will be dismissed promptly at ten Genevieve assures me...I am going to formally ask her to marry me.” he speaks slowly and purposely, wanting to make sure his words were heard and processed.

Aggie's eyes grow wide as he speaks his final sentence, her mind trying to comprehend what was being said to her. She stares blankly at him for a few moments, She thought she could feel her heart rising into her throat. She thought to ask him to pinch her because she wasn’t sure if she was in a dream or not, she’d only been waiting for around 15 years now to hear of this sort of news for her Genevieve. And before he had shown up she had almost given up hope of hearing them at all. But here she was, her pride swelling up like a mother hen and her chest doing the same as she took a deep breath to compose herself.

“Are ya alright?” Alfie asks with laughter in his voice. “I thought I would have to hush ya or get flogged by ya to be honest.” He grins.

“I’m not doing anything so I don’t do either of those things.” She says with her knuckles turning white from squeezing her hands together. “You’re going to propose to my little Gen tonight?” She asks with her voice a whisper in her excitement for being able to ask him.

“I am.” He nods. “I’ve got the flowers bought 'n paid for that’ll be put in the ballroom once it’s cleared out and the bands been informed of the song to play. I know she’ll head out to the garden for a little nightcap before bed like always and she’ll come back in, and with your guidance she’ll go to the ballroom. And there I’ll be waitin'.” He says with confident nods as he explains.

She squeezes his hands. “You’re going to marry my Genny?” She says with her eyes now gathering tears.

“I have every intention in the world of it.” He says and takes out his handkerchief and hands it to her preemptively.

“You’re going to propose and she’ll say yes and you’ll get married and have children and I... I....” She starts to cry as it all finally breaks loose. All the years of worry about Gen after she was gone we’re no longer valid. She could breathe and enjoy her late years with the sounds of children in the house and dare she even wish she helps deliver the babies of the woman she helped deliver herself.

“Oh c’mere Agatha, sweetie.” He says wiping her face and giving her back a friendly rub. “This is more what I expected.” He chuckles and it causes her to laugh. “I know ya worried 'bout her yeah? But know I’m  
gonna take care of her best I can. I’ve been workin' on the ketubah and setting her up even if something happens to me. So no worries, eh?”

“Oh bless you Mr. solomons” She says with a shake of her head.

“Oh come now, off with that nonsense, it’s Alfie. You’re basically me mother at this point innit ya?” He gives her another charming grin.

“Oh heavens! Alma!” She starts to sob more loudly. “She’ll be so happy my God she’ll be in pieces! Her baby girl marrying a Jewish man. Oh my lord.” She gasps and holds her chest.

“I’m hoping we can have her family for the wedding. I’ll be talking to Altar bout it as soon as she says yes.”

 

“Oh Altar!” She wails And throws her face into the handkerchief as Alfie holds back a laugh at her dramatic delivery. Perhaps Gen had taken more of Aggie's traits than either of them knew.

—————-

Alfie completes all the things on the list, being stern with the specifics and not shying from cursing at the people who were being paid. He's sure they'd be far nicer to Gen this way now and avoid him for the rest of the night. He was paying the ones that mattered enough to where it didn't matter if they liked him or not, they'd do that job right.

With a now crumpled up piece of paper in his balled fist from shouting at the idling young girls on the staff, he saunters back into the bedroom he shares with the enchanting woman that is sat perched and in her knickers in front of her vanity table.

"Happy Birthday to me indeed." he says with a cheeky growl, bending to place a kiss on her bare shoulder as she reaches up to gently caress his bearded cheek with a loving smile.

"You should get in the bath, dear." she says turning to give him a kiss to the cheek as his hands run across her soft stomach. "It will be time to greet our guests before you know it." she states with her proper posture and posh matter of speaking and holding her face as she slowly transforms into the hostess of the year and the woman that caught his eye in the first place.

"As you command sweetie." he teases, another grunted smooch to her cheek as she leans into it with a content smile before he shuffles into the marble bathroom.

After a good scrub it's his turn to sit in front of the vanity as Gen works her magic on him. Rubbing different concoctions in her hands and slicking his hair back and making him look like a proper gentleman. She only fusses with the untamable piece of hair at his crown that always insists on misbehaving before sighing and pouting her lips in amusement at it. She'd given up the fight against it long ago, she now only found it an endearing reminder of his boyish stubbornness with his looks.

"Now mind your hair and get into your suit, I'll need you to button me up." another kiss given to his now waxed and smoothed beard as he watches her sashay into the closet in her pants and bra, watching her hips and peachy bum wobble as she trots like a little show pony across the room.

He's working on the buttons of his vest as she emerges, the sapphire blue sequined gown hanging loosely off her feminine frame as she holds it up and watches the ground while tiptoeing towards him. Wordlessly she turns, his fingers know intimately how to latch her up at this juncture in their relationship with so many dresses having been done up and undone by his hands.

"Thank you darling." she says with a sweet voice at almost a whisper, as she always does. She turns and he gets to take in the perfected fit of the gown he's certain Freddie made her. It was stunning, but she always was to him. Fitted to the hip then sweeping out, a slit up the thigh to accommodate her dancing legs later in the evening. The shoulders hung excess loose fabric, flowing over her strong upper arms as the deep V neckline was held together by flesh-colored fabric, keeping the pieces of her he enjoyed oogling like a boy the most in place. She wore his mother's necklace, a simple understated piece with little diamond stud earrings sparkling through the heavy veil of thick almost black hair that she had pulled to one side. Tiny combs with diamonds holding one side of her hair back and a single ring of sapphire.

"I thought you wouldn't be caught dead matching." he smirks at her, seeing her lips curve into an enticing smile before she tilts her head and smiles, putting his watch into his pockets properly.

"If the vest were made of sequins I would say it was too much. But a nice deep blue and this shifting fabric are different enough for me to accept." her eyes never leave her hands, her lips painted and poised as they smirk at his teasing. "There are so many things I never said I would do before I met you Alfie. Is us both wearing the same color really the one you want to pick on me for?" she gives him a charming soft laugh and takes his hands.

"Well what else is there?" he says with a knowing grin her way.

"If you want me to list off all the things for you I will because it is your birthday. But they are mostly terribly sentimental," she says with a roll of her eyes and a shake of her head with her sarcastic delivery. "About how I said I would never love a man as I do you. Or never trust one with power. Never let one lie to me and get away with it." she smiles and sticks her tongue out just slightly through her pearl-like teeth as she gives his chin a pinch.

"Alright, alright." he says loudly, deflecting from the tenderness as she fusses over him.

"How about we get to your presents, hmmm?" she chirps with an adorable tilt of her head. "I want to give them to you before the party. As is tradition it seems."

"It's a good tradition." he says in support with pursed lips.

"Alright. The first one..." she begins, tugging him to the bed and having him turn and stand facing away from it. "I need you to close your eyes." she says with her hands on her hips as he must give her a stubborn glance before residing to do as she asked. "NO peeking!" she says as she moves to pull both of the presents he'd be receiving tonight out of their hiding place in the closet. One she sets on a chair in front of him.

"What the bloody 'ell are ya doin'?" he asks at the sound of the scratching chair across the floor.

"Don't you dare open those baby blue's Alfie Solomons! I meant it!" she says continuing on with her task as he sighs and obeys. "Alright." she says proudly, moving next to him and clasping her hands together. "Present number one. Open!" she says, holding her hands up in celebration as he twitches his nose and bats his eyes before focusing on the painting that sat propped against the back of the chair, sat in the seat in front of him.

His posture straightens and his chin pushes into his neck at the realization. He steps closer, hands in his pockets as he studies the depiction of himself. "You do 'is?" he asks with a slow pace of words.

"I did." she says with great pride.

"Fuckin' 'ell love." he says shaking his head. "You managed to make an old 'orse like me look handsome. Dare I say it 'bout myself. Awful 'fing to say 'bout oneself."

She laughs and moves to take his arm into both of hers. "Don't be silly. You ARE terribly handsome and it's a lovely thing to say about yourself!" she insists with a genuine sincerity in her voice that makes his stomach flutter just slightly. What had he done to have someone like her see him in such a way? "I merely painted you as I see you." she says with a hand motioning to the portrait. "I thought it could hang next to mine in the hall." she suggests. "I know you wouldn't want it in your office or at the bakery." she says as an afterthought.

"HA!" he lets out his gruff and loud burst of a laugh. "Who the fuck am I? Tommy Shelby?" his broad smile captures her attention as his eyes light up and crinkle at the edges.

"Oh hush." she chuckles and smacks his chest lightly. "Having a portrait of yourself if a sign of stature." she enthuses.

"If ya innit got taste." he murmurs and she pinches his arse. "Hey now there little kitten with the claws." he says moving to pull her hip to hip with him. "I'm not sayin' I don't think it's brilliant, pet, because it is. You just know it innit really... my way of doin' fings to have pictures of meself hung up everywhere."

"I know that, darling. That's why it'll hang up next to mine. To show who the owners of the house are. You know, so people know exactly who they're messing with when they come in." she gives an amused chuckle.

"Now 'at I can agree too." he nods. "Am I an owner of the house?" he smirks. "I innit signed my name to no deeds last I recall." he says playfully with a rub of his chin.

"You silly beast." she teases, a poke to his stomach that he acts like harms him. "You live here as well. The staff answers to you just as they do me. This is where your things are and where you sleep and escape from the city. This is your home just as much as it is mine. I mean... you have seen my secret room and safe so..." she shrugs and gives him an adoring smile.

"You're as a sweet as a sufganiyot, Genevieve." he coos and gives her a gentle caress to her cheek. "What about you schedule a double portrait then, eh? The man and lady of the house together, yeah?" he insists with a nod of his chin.

"I had planned on doing such a thing after we were married." she says bashfully as her big brown eyes look up at him almost sheepishly.

"Well you should call and schedule it." he says with a confident nod. "Make sure ya get the person ahead of time that you'd like to do it booked. I think it'd be a lovely gesture for us don't you think?" he asks, a kiss to her forehead that lingers a moment and makes her close her eyes with contentment.

"Certainly, darling." is her quiet reply.

"And what is this here, eh?" he says loudly, moving towards the bed where she had sat the final present.

"Your other present." she says with a happy sigh.

"Lookit 'is! Proper fancy that is, mate!" he says with more enthusiasm for this gift than the previous one, but it was to be expected. He held up the black patent cane. It was gold tipped and had the head of a lion on top, as was his Hebrew name. It had an open roaring mouth, large enough for his palm to rest on it and two impressive sapphire stones set in its eyes. "You've given me so many jewels tonight love I fink you might be buttering me up!" he laughs his dry and coarse haw of a laugh. It was rough and abrasive but she knew it was more importantly genuine. She would never tire of watching the way it carried up his chest in a burst, his chin bobbing and eyes closed in surrender to it.

"A cane fit for a Jewish King named Ari." she says affectionately.

"Oh she IS tryin' to butter me up. What am I? A bloody biscuit' to ya love?" another coarse laugh as his hands move lightly over the detailed and expensive piece.

"You are a biscuit." she chuckles to herself, shaking her head and taking it from him. "There's a little extra thing here..." she says, pushing it down and twisting the head, her finger pressing down on the tongue in its mouth as she unsheathes a sword with a melodic, metallic swipe.

"Fuckin' 'ell!" he says impressed and a boyish grin on his face of excitement. "Ya outdone yaself Gen." he says almost a mumble as he looks it over. "Like the captain's swords from the war." he murmurs to himself.

"Exactly." she says with a knowing smile.

"You brilliant little thing." he says sheathing it and holding it in one hand as he moves to give her a single press of their mouths. "How am I supposed to out do ya if ya keep givin' me 'fings like 'is! Makin' me art... both for the wall and meself." he shakes his head and gives her a tap to the bum with the cane. "Ya perfect you know that my little flower? Ya bloody brilliant." he insists with a bite to his words, his lips so close to hers as he grazes their noses together before planting another kiss on her, this time dipping her back as she shrieks in surprise, her arms clinging to him as he laughs into the kiss. "Now 'at's better. Prefer ya with ya holdin' me like 'at." he gives her a cheeky wink before letting her go as she moves to adjust her dress and hair, a flushed and amorous, giggling smile on her face at his antics. That's how he liked to see her. His stone-faced warrior queen looking more a blushing bride with her softness on full display for him. Only he got to make her giggle and blush pink as the flowers in her garden and tonight he was going to assure it stayed that way.

\------

The party was much more understated than Genevieve's birthday had been. She knew what Alfie would prefer it and she had certainly delivered. A modest spread of food in the dining room, the band playing much more timid choices in songs than at her bash. The guest list was small and only had the most tolerable of Alfie's friends and acquaintances. The decor was also gentle on the eyes, just enough to show there was a feminine touch in the planning of it with small flower centerpieces. With the drink flowing and the less obvious drug use, the dance floor grows heavier with bodies and the music reflected that. Gen as always, found people to dance with between rounds of networking, setting up future meetings and kissing cheeks with praise as she moved alone and with Alfie at her side through the party. She was a brilliant host and as the night started to go on, Alfie knew there was one small thing he was willing to do to make her night a little more special before he gave her what he'd wanted to for what felt like forever now.

She laughs with her hand to her chest, her skin dazzling as the sheen from sweat sat atop it and made her shimmer in the low light of the chandeliers. He moves through the crowd, everyone parting for him as they always did, even with a friendly face his body language was always clear that he was the one in charge when he was going somewhere.

"May I have this dance Miss Durand?" he says with an outstretched hand as she turns quickly, her hair falling into her thrilled face.

"Yes you may Mr. Solomons." she giggles and hops towards him.

He takes her hands, their rings knocking together with interlaced fingers as he keeps her chest to chest with him. A large bejeweled hand, more so than hers so far this night rests on her lower back possessively. "This is much easier than the last time I recall it." he speaks quietly to her, leaning into her ear to cause goosebumps to break across her skin.

"Certainly is." she chuckles, resting her head on his chest. "There's no hiding anymore." she says with a content sigh.

"No there is not." he says with a certainty that makes his eyes soften as he watches her smile against him. They hold each other and sway, a slow song into another slow song as per his orders to the band. "Might the birthday boy get a kiss?" he says playfully into her ear and she laughs with her head thrown back and a big lovely smile.

"He doesn't even have to ask." she says with large eyes batting up at him, chin already lifted to answer his request.

He takes her off guard, as he did love to do. The hand he held was placed to his chest, moving to her face to keep her close as lipstick be damned while he kissed her with purpose. He kissed her in front of everyone like he'd wanted to all those months ago on her birthday. Wanted to whisk her away and make her feel like the only woman in the world. It's what she deserved he thought. A unique man such as himself, an educated but unhinged, controlled but an animalistic man never thought he'd find the same qualities in a woman. Certainly not a woman who wanted him the same way he wanted her. But here he was, with his match, the other half he'd been lectured about looking for his entire life by his mother, sisters, every older woman that knew him. They all told him she existed but he wasn't sure he ever believed them. He supposed he owes them all an apology.

This time when he dips her, she doesn't squirm or squeak. She keeps her lips fast to his, her foot popping as he swings her with his strong arms, never fearing she would fall. And wasn't that a perfect example of how she felt about him now. Even after he raises her, she doesn't part from him, kept chaste but passionate, his hand never reaching below what would be thought indecent of lovers in public, they held close and kissed. Only parting to breathe and murmur into each other, affectionate turns of phrase as they danced forehead to forehead, both of them sharing an intimate moment in a room full of watching eyes. The onlookers finding it either jealousy inducing sweet or a rather uncharacteristic behavior of a powerful man seeming as if he might be showing weakness. Either way, no one but them understood the significance of it, and they preferred it that way. Both onlookers were correct in their own right. The women had every right to be jealous. The men did see a weakness in Alfie, his Genevieve. But what most didn't know was that she was stronger than they could ever imagine and that with them together, they should have all been scared.  
\-----------  
As he knew she would, Genevieve moves out after dismissing everyone to the garden to cool off. She saunters out, a moment to gather herself as she sighs and watches the moon in the sky over the hills that show the line of her property in the distance.

"Thank you, dear." she says to a girl that brings her the last flute of champagne for the night. Her fingers fumble with the diamond placement of Alfie's mother's necklace, thinking of him as she held it to her lips, wondering what the future had in store for them. She sips away, the drink loosening her up for what she was certain would be a rather wild night ahead. She yawns and stretches, wandering on the dimly lit garden path through the now blooming flowers when she started trying to shake the sleepiness that was creeping up on her. She certainly wasn't the party animal she used to be, she muses.

\----

Alfie stands in the now full ballroom. Hand holding the box in his pocket tight.

"She's just gone out dear. Should be back in any moment. I'll be cleaning up." Aggie grins broadly.

"Thank you, love." he says with a nod that to anyone else would seem business as usual, but Aggie could see the nervousness in his eyes. But she was thankful for its existence. A man should be nervous when proposing she thought. No one should ever think something was guaranteed, even though she knew when he asked that her little Gen would certainly say yes.

He stands in a room full of flowers, a band on wait with their Debussy sheet music. He'd bought every flower in London again it seemed. More lavender with large bows tied around the bundles, Iris's dotting the mostly purple floor, a path clear for her to walk through to him a circle to dance in the middle. Hanging flowers from the columns fell down, ribbon and lace wrapped around the so very French decor in its gold filigree. He stood and waited, his jaw tight and trying to think of what he'd say. He'd been over it so many times in his head. But now in the moment, it seemed that as it was still yet to be proven wrong, Genevieve was the only thing that truly made him a nervous mess.

So he waited. He stood there for what felt like forever. "How long's it been?" he asks out loud, looking down at his watch. It'd been nearly half an hour, which was usually the maximum amount of time she'd stay outside before coming to join him. "Aggie!" he shouts, and she trots in with a confused look on her face.

"She still not come in? I thought I saw her." she says with a quick darting of her head down the hall.

"No." he states obviously. "She's usually not out there this long. Could you go check please?" he asks with a controlled voice but his mind felt anything but.

So he waits again. And Aggie returns empty handed. "I couldn't... find her." she says with a confused look on her face.

"Did ya check the lily pond?" he asks with a rush to his words.

"Oh! No I didn't! I'll go-"

"Nah. Let me." he says with a dismissive swipe of his hand. "She loves that place, not a bad place to start the 'ol speech." he says with a pat to Aggie's shoulder. "You stay 'ere and I'll be back with the little minx." he instructs her politely. "And you all stay, right? Be ready!" he points to the band.

He takes a deep breath of the cool night air, slowly making his way into the bushes to her little hideaway. "Genny love, what ya doin' hidin' out here? Ya gonna freeze." he says affectionately, turning the corner to meet her but she wasn't there. This is went he felt a terrible pang in his gut. This is when he started to worry.

He moves quickly in and out of the rows of the garden, checking the barn, the greenhouse, the pond and back again. And nothing. As he's about to shout, his foot crunches on something in the pathway. He looks down and his heart drops. His mother necklace lay broken in the dirt path, the latch clearly having been jerked from its place around her neck. He holds it, knowing what it meant and his mouth goes dry. "Not tonight." he whispers, moving to run back into the house.

"AGGIE!" he shouts, breathless and sliding into the main hall where she stood with worried eyes.

"What is it?" she asks, knowing now something had to be wrong.

"Genny." he pants out, holding up the necklace. The one thing they'd said they'd do if one of them was ever abducted. Leave something behind. "Someone's taken her."


	77. It Makes No Difference

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfie and every man he has looks for Gen. Claire's suggestion takes Alfie up to Leeds, to meet a certain man that could have something to do with her disappearance.  
> Song is It Makes No Difference by The Band.
> 
> If you enjoyed my work, let me know with a comment or kudos! It keeps me motivated to write. <3

The raw chaos that swept across the estate could be felt in every pore of every body that lay within it. Alfie took control of the house and those in it like he was in the war again, shouting with his deeply worried face out orders to search and destroy. 

After the entirety of the land was searched, there was still no Genevieve to be found. All that was left besides the necklace was a champagne flute by the back hedges that still contained some liquid. A brave girl brings it forth to Alfie who has it taken from his grasp by Claire who sniffs it's contents deeply. 

"She was drugged." she says with a face that hadn't flinched since the nightmare scenario began. "That's how they got her without anyone knowing." she says as her grip tightens on the glass, her muscles tense and vibrating in anger and sorrow in shifting waves that she couldn't control. 

"I've called Ollie. We're touching base with every spy we got. I've got the Shelby's reaching out with their men to check the pubs for gossip. I've got every lad I have out searchin'." he mutters, mostly to himself so he can know he has in fact done all he can. It didn't help the rage that was now interwoven into every cell of him, a feeling so undiluted and grievous he thought he'd never feel it again after he came home from the war. 

Aggie rubs Claire's shoulders, it all she knew to do. She kept running to the linen closet and hyperventilating and crying before coming out to face reality again. She knows that Claire isn't the type for physical comfort, but she couldn't comfort Alfie as he was huffing and puffing and moving around with hard and heavy steps with his face set into a deep scowl. His body moving tightly with tension as his mind worked endlessly to figure out who took her behind his wild eyes that were almost hidden under his heavy brow. 

As the staff busies themselves, some cleaning up from the party, not knowing what else to do, they all stop and freeze as Claire suddenly throws the glass that she'd been staring at like it would give her answers, Gen's lipstick stain still on on the rim. It shatters against the wall, as she lets out a gut wrenching scream. She felt like a failure, like she'd lost a sister, how unfair it all felt bubbled up as she started to panic in a hunched pose. Everyone stops and stares with no manners in sight. The one person that always held it together was broken, and they felt all hope was lost. 

"C'mere." Alfie says moving to her and holding her sternly by the arms.

"I failed her." she says, eyes glazed and far away.

"No. No one failed anyone."

"It's not FAIR!" she growls, a blood vessel popping in her eye as spit stays on her chin, unnoticed in her mad state. 

"Is it not Claire?" he shouts loudly in her face. 

Her eyes go wide as it snaps her out of her own self pity. 

"You know what lives we lead. Gen knows what lives we lead and what comes with it. No one failed anyone. This is just our reality, yeah? I know you've never dealt with a situation like this before but we are now, yeah? We are in it and we are going to deal with it do you understand me? You goin’ off right now with no direction for it innit gonna help no one. Especially not her. So why don't you go into her office and see if there's anything that can help us figure out who did this?” He speaks with over annunciation, a calm pace that is the opposite of how he feels inside.

She swallows noisily and takes deep shaky breath before shoving his hands off her.

"That's better." he says with a stern nod. "You're one of me best men, yeah? We can find her. Get her home if we play our cards right. She was taken, if they wanted her dead she'd already be dead." He harshly states but Claire appreciates the hard truth. 

"So it's revenge."

"Most likely." he nods.

"Because of you." she snarls at him.

He pauses and his lips disappear under his mustache as he squares his shoulder. Anger flaring, clear ok his face despite it making him a hypocrite. "Fuckin'... most likely." he barks out defensively. 

"You and your fucking temper." she growls out again through clenched teeth. "Why did you ever have to come back?!” she shouts and shoves him and he takes it, averting his eyes away as his jaw stays tense, knowing she was reacting in anger towards the loss but not being able to tell her she was wrong. "You should've stayed away from her! She could've found ANY other man and this would've NEVER HAPPENED!" Her hands in white knuckled fists as she leans forward and screams with a face snarled in pain. 

"Do you think she dinnit know who I fuckin’ was? What I do? What I've done? Because she fuckin' does. And SHE chose ME, yeah? All the good and all the fuckin' bad, right?" he defends both his and Genevieve's decisions. "She knew this could happen. It's why we had discussions on what to do if this VERY situation every occured!” He loudly slaps his hands together to punctuate his points. “I know you're hurt, I'm ready to fuckin' explode but if we do whoever took her wins. And for our sake AND hers, we WILL NOT LOSE." he says in a booming voice that makes Claire take a step back, knowing he was right. “You aren’t the only one feelin’ burned by ‘is, RIGHT? But hatin’ me for what I am, for what I do innit gonna help a fuckin’ thing, mate.” His voice lowers in volume but not intensity as he sees her shoulders slowly drop, chest slowing in it heaving as she comes back to herself. 

"For her." she says with a nod. "For what I know she wants. My opinion of it be damned." she says with a shake of her head, eyes casted down. "Okay." she sighs out, rubbing her temples. "Who took her?" she says to herself as Alfie reflects her body language, looking to the ground as if the stone would show him an answer. He's considering asking one of the Shelby gypsy's to try to do whatever it is they do to find her when Claire's head snaps up.

"I have an idea." she says with a hesitant face.

"Fuckin' spit it out." he says demandingly. 

"What if it was George?"

Aggie gasps, her hand to her mouth, a silent bystander watching the emotions run high. "He wouldn't." he says with her other hand moving to meet the other over her mouth.

"Would he not? He had someone break into the fucking house." Claire says with hunched posture as she turns to the older woman with tears in her eyes.

"Genevieve didn't think he'd retaliate after she sent him that head." Alfie says more calmly and latching onto the hope held in Claire’s idea. "Do ya really fink it was the mad bastard because I would love to have a fuckin' word wif him." he says with a pointed finger to let her known to think twice about her answer.

"It's the only person I know that would be doing it because of her and not you." she says with a calmer voice and a shrug of her shoulders. 

"Right." his lips purse as he looks away. "You! Joseph!" he barks as the older man jumps at the sound. "Get the car ready for a drive up North. I"m going to be payin' me father in law in a little visit." he says with a snarl.

\-------

She wakes up with a violent gasp of air as water is poured onto her head, soaking her gown. As consciousness comes back to her rapidly, she finds herself bound and unable to move, the squeak of the wooden chair against the dirty poured stone floor as she struggles involuntarily echos in the what she would guess to be a cellar with its lack of windows. 

"There she is." a deep man's voice comes from the darkness. A single light sways above her, being knocked about by men she doesn't recognize as they circle her with cold eyes, moving in and out of her line of sight. Her bound frame casts a shadow on the dusty floor, boot prints smudges across the shifting spotlight that she for once didn’t want to be in. She pants to catch her breath, still a bit dizzy from whatever they'd given her. "You handle your drugs well Genevieve." the man’s voice remarks with a slow chuckle. "Most would still be knocked out."

" I was known for my partying in my youth." she answers back smartly, shaking her hair out of her face to see better, the wet strands slapping across her clammy, paled skin. 

"And still a mouth on her despite being down. It's almost a shame what I'm going to do to you. You are a bit of fun." his eyes come through first and she recognizes them on sight. The same icy shade that made her nauseous from the first time she ever saw them.

"Horne." she whispers with her brow giving away her surprise.

\---------

Alfie stomps into the bakery in the late hours of the night, the place empty except for him and his fast shuffled footsteps towards his office. The morning crew would be here soon and he wanted out before they reported in. He slams the door shut behind him with a bang that shakes loose dirt from the wooden walls of his office, not that he meant to, his muscles were just so tense that he couldn't do anything but make hard and fast movements. 

"Where's the bloody thing." he mumbles as he knocks papers off his desk haphazardly, trying to recall where he had the letter kept that Genevieve's father had sent him. He'd wanted it to slap the man with the face with once he laid eyes on him and read it for ammo against him on the long drive ahead. He pulls open his locked drawer, the keys fumbling against his stomach as he moves hastily. Instead of what he's looking for making him stop, he sees an envelope he hadn't before with "Ari." written in his lost love's looped handwriting. The unforeseen intrusive thought of her breaks his raging anger. He pauses and sits heavily into his chair with a thud. His face falls into a more solemn expression, his eyes showing the sadness and guilt that fueled the rage he was acting out upon. He sighs and opens it, finding a letter from her inside. 

"To my one love Ari, I'm sure last night was just as lovely as we'd want it to be. After all, making you happy does seem to fulfill me in a way I've never known before. Certainly one I never expected. If I haven't succeeded in keeping you in the confines of our sanctuary of sheets, then I hope the morning air that had the good fortune to be taken into your lungs finds you well and in good spirits. In this envelope there are photos, and I know I do not have to tell you they are for your eyes only. No other man dare gaze upon what is yours lest he wants to lose his eyes. I wanted something a little extra for your birthday, something you didn't expect to show you I want to be on your mind always, just as you are mine. So keep them close, but keep me closer, and know I love you always, my dearest birthday boy. Enjoy the gifts now and I know I will reap the rewards later. I love you darling. Yours always, Genevieve."

His gut churns, the tears stinging in his eyes as he clears his throat, gently unfolding the paper and taking out the photographs inside. They were posed, nude photos of her. Her draped in jewels, her wearing his shirt and hat and her laid in bed with very conveniently placed furs, her with very strategically placed suspenders, one amongst the flowers in her garden. His favorite of them being one of her in her studio, perched on her stool with her palette and a brush, a long and sheer gown open and flowing around her. Her face was studious and focused, it was more candid than the rest and he was flooded with memories of seeing her in a similar form as she painted on her little pedestal he called it, having to be bribed to come to tea by kisses. After taking each other them in, he places them and the letter gingerly into his inner coat pocket, he wasn't letting them out of his grasp until he found her. A reminder of the perfection that was surely wondering where he was and fighting to get back to him as he sat and discovered her thoughtful and cheeky addition to what should’ve been the best birthday of his life. 

They felt as if they exuded a heat into his skin. Like she was there with her hand over his heart. Like she would’ve been had the whole night gone according to plan. He’d be laid with her in bed, resting on him with the softness of a sleeping kitten. The necklace he’s gotten her still around her neck, his mother’s stone set in the center of it. With a hand heavy over his heart where he held the words and images of her that were so intimately for him he breaks. He lets out a pained sound, a gravelly whine and groan that is birthed in his guts and takes out the sorrow from his chest. He slams the now tainted hand that rubbed across the beautiful and painful reminders of her beauty, affections and trust down onto his desk. She lets out a roar, after his namesake as the veins bulge and his heart races, the frustration for what lives they led giving cause to something like this happening. The photos, having looked at them long enough, are now permanently etched into his mind. His lovely, soft and flawless wife, his perfect little Chanah. What state would she be in when he got to her?

\-----

Her face now burning from words and physical attacks, she grits her teeth and holds strong as she stares at the floor, still not seeing far past the yellow circle of light cast down on her. 

"It's his fault you're even in this predicament you know. I like YOU. You're a bit of a cunt sure, but who isn't? No one with any power is a GOOD person are they?" he says, cracking his knuckles. “He’s the one that killed those fucking Americans and went and tucked up my entire plan for my business. He fucked me over once and we barely got by with the skin of our teeth and our lives. But not again. He’s not going to get what he wants AND fuck me over...NO! I’m going to have you, and you’re going to tell me your little kike secrets and maybe I’ll give ya back to him!” He says as if this is good news.

“I’m not telling you a fucking thing.” She says, eyes shifting up to meet his boldly as her face hangs low.

" Why are you protecting him? I told you it’s HIS fault you’re even here! And I know he has secrets to lose that’ll fuck him up as much as that fucking deal falling through did me. I know he's worked with the secret society's before. I KNOW this, okay? So I want to know what he has going on NOW. They've cut me out and as an American I can't get footing over here. It's horse shit and no matter how many places I buy, how many people I bribe that promise me things, no one is letting a Yank in are they?" he rambles on, she could smell the alcohol on his breath as he barked at her, his posture slumped as he rested his hands on his knees as he leaned in to speak at her face. 

"Even if I knew of any deals I wouldn't tell you." she says in a controlled way that only angers him. He wanted her to cry, to scream and call out for Alfie or anyone to please help but she refused. He'd hit her, and oh how he'd gotten a thrill a from watching her bright blood shine across herpretty soft skin. 

"What about your little adopted family? The Shelby’s? You spend time with those uncivilized gypsys. Tell me how Tommy became a member of parliament. He was nothing in Birmingham. Even your Alfie..." he hissed his name. "Ran him out of London. No one took those fuckin' gypsy's seriously." he insists. 

"Apparently enough people did to vote him in."

He groans and takes his cigar from it's resting place on the table next to her. It contained tools she'd only had to look at once to know their purpose, to make her talk. He rips her dress, the slit now up to her hip as he presses the burning ember end of the cigar into the skin of her thigh with a wicked grin. "You're going to talk girl." he states in a frighteningly calm voice. 

She breathes through her nose, control the pain, she thinks to herself. Altar taught her how to survive this. She could get through it. Alfie is out there right now looking for her. He probably has the whole of London out looking. He would find her. If she couldn't save yourself, he would. Wouldn't he? She wonders as she parts her lips to gasp as he pulls the cigar away, moving to take a puff to reignite it, speaking with it between his teeth, unperturbed by the stench of burning flesh through the air. 

"These boys wouldn't do this for you, you know. Alfie isn't loyal. He'll probably kill you after he marries you anyway and take all your fucking money. Or perhaps during childbirth hmmm? If you don’t do it naturally bringing a hellspawn his earthside. Because your family doesn't have the best history of making it through that do they?" his eyes turn reptilian she swears, his words hurt her far worse than he ever could physically, although he had plans on trying it that way. "Oh, did that one hurt her feelings?" he lets out a loud laugh as she glares into his eyes, her lip swollen and busted, the blood from her scalp and brow trickling down her now smeared makeup covered face. "So she DOES have feelings!" he muses as he sits the cigar back down and getting in her face. "Perhaps you can't even have children though..." he says with a tilt of his head. "Maybe that's why he's not married you. Oh! And what if he finds out you can't. Then what use would you be to him? He'd certainly find a way to get rid of you after that news. What use are you to a man like him but to give him children. Although these tits might be enough for him for feel sorry for you. Although in your age that won’t last long will it? Maybe he’ll keep you around for the conversation." he and the men all laugh, the chorus like hyenas as the stench from their mouths is directed at her. 

"He loves me. Something you’ve clearly never known. He wouldn't do that even if I can’t give him children."

"Ah. So you don't know." he replies with a nod and standing up, popping his back and stretching.

She holds her face steady, watching him as he moves on his suspenders off his shoulders. 

He grabs her by the face, his mustache brushing against her jaw as he speaks. "Let's test this theory of just how much he loves you." 

\----------  
Alfie still hasn't slept as the sun is high along the long road to Leeds to see George Greene. He'd checked with his men who had been tailing him for some weeks now and they had said there was no sign of any foul play with him, that he'd kept to himself mostly without many people in or out of the home. But this was the only solid lead that Alfie had and he wasn't going to be sitting on his arse feeling sorry for himself back in London. He had the car go as fast as it would go, and hoping it didn't break down along the way. With luck on his side for a brief, fleeting moment it did not. 

He gets to the men who were set to meet him before they were within eyeshot of the estate. He's filled in by the guards and the comings and goings of the house, the exits and who was on their payroll and who wasn't. They had a girl with them that would lead him right to George, as she was one of her personal servants and could go nearly anywhere in the house without question. This showed the disloyalty to him even in his most inner circle. So he had his intel and he had his way in. 

He takes off his hat, his suit from his birthday still on and the love letter from Gen in his breast pocket, he walks with no sign of the fatigue he feels as he enters the walls that had served as a cage for his missing darling. It was as if he could see a young thing running down the halls that were clearly decorated by old money. He wondered if he'd ever see her gracing his sight with running down gaudy halls towards him again. 

"There's a visitor for you sir." the girl says with a formal curtsey, the door just cracked to George's study as to not show Alfie.

"I don't have any appointments today." he simply states. His voice sounds like it belongs to an old rich man. A posh twist and a tone that says you aren’t worth his time.At the sound of it, the hairs on Alfie's neck stand up. 

"But he is here to see you just the same." she says, quickly dipping out of the room and shutting the door as Alfie slides in and stands with balled fists now only paces away from the man that had broken his Genny's heart. 

The look on the old man's face was clear he knew who Alfie was. He had a small frame and weak shoulders. An overdone suit and thin, slicked down almost entirely grey hair. Alfie stands in a stance known to intimidate and glares with his dominating combination of icy eyes and hard brow, not backing down from the wide eyed fright of the rather frail looking relic that sat behind the large decorated desk. "I'll take it by the look on your face you already know who the fuck I am." Alfie says with a raised chin, taking slow steps towards him, one hand in his pocket, his jacket pushed back to show his pistol in an almost casual sweep.

"How did you get in here?" George's shaky voice asks, his back pushed into the large chair that made him look even smaller. 

"I have my ways of gettin' to you...you had your ways of gettin' to Genevieve." he explains cooly. His business experience now taking over as he very slowly made his way around the desk to George's side. 

"I got what she sent. I heard her threat and I haven't interfered since." he says quickly, his upper body moving away from Alfie as he stands towering over him by his chair.

"Have you now?" he says with a mischievous grin, moving with his signature fast speed to easily pick him up by the collar and speak with grit into his face. "Then why is she missing?" he asks with his forehead almost pressed to other mans' how was already sweating. 

"I don't know! I didn't know." he mutters out in surprise. 

Alfie hides his disapproval as he believes him as soon as he glares into his eyes for long enough. "What if I don't believe you?" he hisses.

"I don't..I dont know...I didn't take her." his voice cracks as he avoids the intense eye contact Alfie was serving him.

"You've tried to take everything from her so why stop there eh? Why not take her as well? Finish her off? Finish killin’ the little girl inside her that you tried to snuff out all those years ago?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." he squeaks. 

"You kicked her out. Tried to disown her, kept her from her family. She's told me everything about you, you fuckin’ posh cunt. You are beneath the men even I work with." he throws him back into the chair. 

He hurried tries to adjust his jacket and hair in his anxiety for the threats. "I...I did." he nods. "But I had my reasons. She was giving our family a bad name. I couldn't have her-"

"You were the one that married a Jewish woman. Married into the most powerful family in Paris. All of France. Then you lie to her from birth about who she is. You did all that. You're the one what makes your family look bad. No one else." he says sternly. He could tell George was not accustomed to being spoken to like this. 

"Now listen here!" he says with a childish stomp of his foot.

"NO YOU FUCKIN' LISTEN!" Alfie shouts, spit flying as he takes George by the throat. "If you know anything about where she is and don't tell me...consequences be damned I will fuckin' kill you with me bare hands, mate." he promises with a nod. 

"I don't!" he chokes out. 

"Then why have you been torturin’ her eh? Keepin her from her family what loves her. You're the only one with the fuckin' problems. No one else. You're the rotten one ruining everyone around ya." he says loudly, not hiding his anger now, still holding him tight by the neck.

"I don't- I swear it." he squirms.

The door to the study opens, and for a moment Alfie thinks that he's found her. That his Genevieve has walked through the doors, untouched and now free. "Let him go." the woman speaks. And as her delicate voice hits Alfie's ears, he hears a familiar French twist to her words, and he knows she must be Gen's mother. 

"This man has been threatening your daughter and then me for being wif her. And now she's missin' and I believe he knows somefin bout it." he explains in a much more polite voice.

"He does not. He is not smart enough to orchestrate such a thing. It had to have been a well laid plan to take my Genevieve by surprise." she says with the same dark eyes as her daughters, the same long and thick hair, her's black with golden skin showing through her dressing robe that was clenched together at her chest. 

Alfie let's his grip on George go and stands, keeping his eyes on Alma. "He is a monster." she says softly. "But he is not a clever one. Thank goodness." she says with a sigh, George's face full of disgust at her words. 

"Now listen here you-!" he begins and Alfie's strikes him across the face.

"You don't get to fuckin' speak unless ya fuckin' spoken to yeah?" he says giving him another demasculinizing slap. "Fuckin' daft little prick." he groans and returns his eyes across the room. 

"He has told me of everything he's done to you, and I apologize. Altar has told me about you." she says with a nod of her head. "About who you are, what you do...your intentions." she says with now clasped hands. "I do not know where she is. I would know if she were here. And she is not. But this news is more than troublesome." she says softly, moving towards the desk. "I grew up in the life. I'm Altar's sister. I know how your lives work." she says with no judgement. "And I know my daughter is very smart and would not get into something she didn't fully have a grasp on. So who you are dealing with must be someone far more of a threat than George. He's...nothing." she says with a dismissive wave of her hand and he scoffs, but does not speak. "If you came all the way here you must be a very dedicated man. But with your line of work...your time is probably best spent in London is it not?"

"And she's not here? This tosser didn't hurt her?"

"Not this time no." she glares at George with the same angry eyes he's seen directed at him many times. "I have great shame for what he's done to this family. But I bare it because it's my job. Someone in your position surely understands."

"I've read your words to her. I do understand. And for me you hold no guilt in this."

She gives him a solemn nod. "I'm glad you are as clever as I'd hoped." she says with a sigh. "I will contact Altar." she begins.

"NO you bloody-!" Alfie gives George two more hits to the head as he holds one side and starts whimpering. 

"I'll have him ask around as well. He has eyes and ears everywhere."

"So do I. I was only followin' a hunch. Claire thought it was worth my time." he says with narrowed eyes. 

"You were smart to follow her advice. I understand the reasoning fully. She is also a smart girl. I'm sure she's being very hard on herself right about now." her lips purse in thought. "But you should go back home, Mr. Solomons. Look for my daughter there. I will send word to you if I find out anything." she says reaching out to take his hand and he gladly offers it. "You find my little Chanah. If she put her faith her you, then I will also put mine with it. She's a strong girl, but she is not unbreakable. You go and find her and I will be to see her. A girl needs her mother at a time like this."

"No y-" George begins and Alfie hits him yet again with his free hand. 

"Fuckin' 'ell you are thick aren't ya lad?" Alfie shakes his head, wondering why he ever worried about this child in a man's suit. "And I need your daughter Miss Lafitte." he says with a nod, moving over next to her in front of the desk. "I love her and plan to make her my wife. You know how extraordinary she is and so do I. And you should know I will do everything and anything in my power to get her back home."

"Thank you Mr. Solomons. I'm glad she's had you looking out for her. She needs a strong man to rule with. And you fit the role nicely." she gives his cheek an affectionate pat. "Now go, cheri.” she says moving him by his hands towards the door. "You go find her. I'll take care of George here. You have nothing to fear from him. I'll see to it." she gives a stern nod as she sees him out, the last he sees is her giving the same sad forced smile that Genevieve had given him in the early days of their relationship before he had realized what a gift she was to him. He had wasted so much time already, and he wouldn't waste any any longer.  
\--------  
It was as if time couldn't have gone by slower those next few days. For both Genevieve and Alfie. Both stuck in parallels of each other, both being tortured, neither sleeping by choice, neither eating or drinking. Gen only slept by force from blows to the head, each making her lose a little more faith that she'd see the light of day again. Alfie lashed out at everyone and everything, desperate to find answers that were nowhere to be found, his hope never waivered though. He would never give up looking for her.

Finally, a brief shimmer of hope for Alfie after three days of nothing. Word had come of a captive woman being held in Horne's care. One of the plants they had in his brood had finally had the chance to get word out, and Alfie was clinging to this piece of information with everything he had. He reaches out to Horne and to his surprise he does respond.

"Hello there old boy." a hoarse voice speaks on the other end of the line.

"Was it you?" Alfie asks bluntly.

"Was it me...what?" he lets out a deep chuckle that makes Alfie nauseous. 

"You fuckin' know well what. Don't waste me fuckin' time. What do you want?"

"But you called me." he grins and flicks his cigar ash into a tray by the phone. 

"You've got a chance to get out of this alive, Horne." he lies. "We negotiate. You give her back.. That's how this works." he says plainly. 

"Then you'll come to the warehouse down by the sea. The one that's paid off for the smugglers. You'll get her back and we'll discuss the terms."

"Is she dead?" he asks plainly. 

"Hmmm...let's ask her. Are you dead sweetheart?" he asks, putting the phone up to her face and all he hears is her groan and wet sound of sputtering lips. "I don't think she is." Horne muses. 

"You bring her to me alive."

"I can do that." he says with a snide smile.

"And we're gonna meet right fuckin now." he commands. 

"If you say so. Such an assertive man now aren’t we Solomons? From my expertise she doesn’t seem to care much for that type." he laughs. "I've been ready for days, Alfie. Took you long enough to figure it out.”

“Yeah I shouldn’t have given you the benefit of the doubt that you’d be fuckin daft enough to try some shite like this. I'll be seein' you at the warehouse." Alfie barks and gives a satisfying slam to the phone. "OLLIE!" he shouts, his voice cracking from fatigue and the way he'd been abusing it the past few days. 

"Yes sir?!" he says siding into the room. 

"Get the car ready. Call the Shelby's. We're going to need back up."

**If you enjoyed my work, let me know with a comment or kudos! It keeps me motivated to write. <3 **


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